“O why have you sat me by this stone so cold?”

She asked her cruel husband, all blind, with a sigh.

“O why have you given me this flute to hold?”

 But he stood and would not make reply.

 

The stone was no stone but the skull of her love,

The flute was carved out of his bone,

And she only knew when she heard the voice – “Sister!” –

Cry out in the pale moth’s drone.