In the grotto there she stood
and chased air with her song-
sung in words already said,
a voice wind moved along.

The crashing waves cried out alarm
as tide came rushing in.
Alas! Her song was trampled
by the overwhelming din.

Fast the water filled the cave;
faster did she drown.
And when the tide went limping out,
it left nary a sound.

And there she lies forever more,
trapped between the stones.
But her voice still lingers yet,
though never sung alone.

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Phaestian, in the year 894 AF.