How could you know, a traveler here To view the sight through camera lens, How this great rock dance did appear? You get your shot, you pay your pence, Then briefly glance around the place, This mummery of a long lost race. You see but stones, I saw a king, A place, a time where time was not, A sword and crown foreshadowing The world without a Camelot. The image fades but does not die, And no one knows so well as I. You see but circles, I saw stars; A horseshoe where I counted sun And the slow encircling Mars That crowned the stones when day was done And sounded out the deep refrain Of faith upon Salisbury Plain. Was it strange men in hot parade Who set the stones upon the grass Then picnicked in the lengthening shade And watched the English noontide pass? Or was it magic by some mage Who did these very stones engage? The tale’s been told.
