In 1928 was the carousel born.
The chargers burst from huge blocks of wood
Carved by hand, paints merely allowing the spirit
Of the horse to gallop into reality.
For fifty-seven years did the Paragon Park
Horses gyre and whirl in countless laps.
Heads raised high to neigh at the tides,
Never bucking from the storms that lashed Nantasket Beach.

Generations recall riding the Paragon Carousel.
Then progress deemed the horses be sent to pasture.
Condominiums were the better ride, certainly
A better venture: more bang for the buck, head to head.

The investors didn’t bet on
collective memory rearing its head--
To corral the riders country wide.
They rose in a tide
greater than any
that ever swept the beach.
The riders came in numbers
greater than the population of the town.
From Boston, they rode echoing
‘One if by land, two if by sea-
You can’t take the carousel away from me!’
From New Jersey and Florida
And Arizona, white-haired forever children drove
And flew, riding their seaside pals
In their collective memories,
As they descended on Hull
To raise their voices in protest.



Circle within circle surrounding the carousel,
Children and grandchildren riding the horses that refused to stop.
Gaily flower decked steeds of Princess white, of charger grey,
Chariots of mustard yellow, rearing blacks, pintos, and bays.
Circles stretching outward, ten deep, now fifteen as the people came.
Spirals fencing in the horses, shielding them from demolition.
Real horses from Cohasset, from Quincy, from Plymouth, from the Cape
Pranced, orbiting the herd of hard and fast rebels-
This was Boston, this was New England.
No out-of-towner condo-hungry investors were going to
Rein them in.

And this was New England
And the people stayed and circled around
What they believed in.
And once again, they won their battle.
The carousel still stands
Between the condos and the sea.