With rejoicing all the Tamals Sought their homes along the bayshore, Singing thanks to the Great Spirit, Singing praises to their saviors, Giant Albatross and Beaver, Resting then, within the harbor. Then again, in voice of thunder, Spoke the Spirit from the Heavens; 'Let the Totem of the Tamals Be the Albatross and Beaver; Search and Labor, be their motto; And, lest children of their children May forget their mighty saviors, Giant Albatross and Beaver Shall be changed to rocky Islands-- Monuments to stand forever, In the Harbor of the Tamals.' Thus the ancient Tamal woman Told the Legend of the Islands, While December rains were falling, And the fragrant pine was burning In the fireplace of the cabin On the slope of Tamalpais. The Lake of Merita. The lengthening shadows of evening Were creeping on Mount Tamalpais, Painting with purple the valleys, Gilding the ridges and summit. Green were the groves of the redwoods, Lacing their branches together; Through them the last rays of sunlight Pierced to the carpet of needles. Only the tinkling of water, Only the breeze in the branches, Only the call of the blue jays Broke the mysterious silence. Far through the canyon I wandered, Far to her camp in the redwoods-- The home of the Indian woman, Wrinkled and old and decrepit, Learned in the lore of the Tamals. Nearing her camp-fire, I saw her, And halted in fear, lest I trespass. She sat like a Priestess of Forests, Chanting with weird intonations, Slowly, with strange repetitions, Swaying in rhythmical measure. Round her the wild forest creatures Gathered and sat at attention. Birds ceased their anthems of evening, Fluttered to branches above her, Listened as if fascinated. The singing was hushed when she saw me; Away fled the wild things to cover. "Welcome, my friend," said the Tamal. "A seat at my camp-fire is waiting." Her welcome was hearty and friendly, But out of the shade of the forests Came chattering, chirping and barking, Resenting, reproaching, complaining. I sat by the camp-fire and listened In wonder. The scene was uncanny. At last, when the plaints had subsided, Or faded away in the distance, I said , "Tell me, friend, by what magic Are wild creatures called to your camp-fire. Is it a secret you cherish? May you reveal it to others?" She gazed in the flickering embers, Dreamily gazed in the embers, Then she replied, "You have heard me Singing the song of Merita, The magical song of Merita, Merita, the friend of wild creatures, Wearers of fur or of feathers, Creatures of forest and mountain, Birds of the sea and the marshes.