According to Ruth E St Leger-Gordon, the author and playwright Eden Philpotts wrote this poem about the stones. Philpotts thinks there are only seven. Why is counting stones so difficult, even without poetic license?
And now at every Hunter’s Moon
That haggard cirque of stones so still
Awakens to immortal thrill
And seven small maidens in silver shoon
Twixt dark of night and white of day
Twinkle upon the sere old heath
Like living blossoms in a wreath
Then shrink again to granite grey.
So blue-eyed Dian shall ever dance
With Linnette, Bethkin, Jennifer,
Arisa, Petronell and Nance.
Although Philpotts describes them dancing, St L-G favours the idea that if you visit at noon you might see them all just shift their positions very slightly. Don’t blink.