And though you say you won't be just another tourist; won't stop and click
each time you reach each little bright blue starburst belvedere
that Michelin sees fit to mark the map with; won't gawp and gaze
whenever you glimpse it over the market gardens and the rescued fields,
across the tranquil polders, peopled by Dutch-looking farms and poplars;
won't stand on every headland up to Granville on the Cotentin
to see its martial and angelic profile - known from a million postcards,
tablemats, key-rings and coffee table books and paperweights -
faint like a bugle's echo over the watered sands; won't fall over
a hundred other people speaking all the tongues of Babel Tower,
kneeling and gasping and pointing their lenses just like you
under the floodlights in the night-time car park...
And you'll marvel.
Because that's what it's there for.