Robert M. Simmons  


from Morning in Middleborough... (Poems 1991-2006)   

            Jupiter’s Telescope

On Mount Olympus where reside

gods and goddesses on its side,

where denizens in raiment fine

on nectar and ambrosia dine,

where deities come to admire

sweet music from Apollo’s lyre

and where Vulcan with his skilled hands

is architect of all that stands,

find Jupiter if him you seek

in his great palace on the peak.

Each morning it was his routine

to monitor the mortal scene,

and for this task he always sought

a telescope that Vulcan wrought.

Of polished wood its tubes were made

with bands of gold on these inlaid,

while giant lenses smooth were ground

from crystals on Olympus found,

and it was fixed to a device

with gears that turned for moves precise.

This day developed like the rest

of those spent on the mountain crest.

After a meal of godly fare,

Jupiter climbed his garden stair,

while from a vine-draped colonnade

Apollo’s music softly played.

The telescope stood on a ledge

within a maze of boxwood hedge

where Jupiter could scan the world

that all around the mountain curled.

Making a sweep across the land

with his device firmly in hand,

he spied a town with much to show

among the others far below,

and there he found to his delight

a dwelling like his own in sight.

So he examined with great care

each pediment and column there,

concluding that they did embrace

his rules of harmony and grace.

Then to his palace he returned

reflecting on what he had learned.

The features of this place conveyed

his will by mortals was obeyed,

and now there was no need to send

the Furies down their ways to mend.

The site no longer in his aim,

he did not see the crew that came

with bulldozer and wrecking ball

to tear apart the antique hall,

and on this spot now can be seen

a place to dispense gasoline.

 

                    © 2003 by Robert M. Simmons

Note.  This poem was inspired by the demise of the Major Elisha Tucker House, once located on the corner of Peirce and North Main Streets in Middleborough, Massachusetts.  Built in 1828, this structure was one of the finest abodes in the region.  It was a showplace with seventeen bedrooms, eight bathrooms, twelve fireplaces and extensive formal gardens.  While he was principal at the Peirce Academy, Professor John Whipple Potter Jenks married Major Tucker's daughter, Sarah, and moved into the Tucker residence.  His heirs occupied the homestead until the early part of the twentieth century.  Eventually, the original family moved out, and by 1939 the house had become an inn known as The Martinique.  In 1957 the edifice was demolished and replaced by a gasoline station.

Photograph of the Major Elisha Tucker House


Next PoemPrevious Poem

HomeAuthor's NoteContentsContact

 

Subjects: poems about, historic preservation, Middleborough, MA, decline of culture, mythology, satire, poetry, poems

 

 

 

Jupiter's Telescope