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Updated: April 30, 2025
"Sing to me, my sweet bird," said Hulda that night as she lay down to sleep. "Tell me why you pecked my wrist." Then the bird sang to her: "Who came from the ruin, the ivy-clad ruin, With old shaking arches, all moss overgrown, Where the flitter-bat hideth, The limber snake glideth, And chill water drips from the slimy green stone?" "Who did?" asked Hulda. "Not the pedlar, surely?
"Sing to me, my sweet bird," said Hulda that night as she lay down to sleep. "Tell me why you pecked my wrist." Then the bird sang to her: "Who came from the ruin, the ivy-clad ruin, With old shaking arches, all moss overgrown, Where the flitter-bat hideth, The limber snake glideth, And chill water drips from the slimy green stone?" "Who did?" asked Hulda. "Not the pedlar, surely?
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