Songs of The Tepee
The Lost Arrow
In a valley deep and grassy,
By the waters blue and icy,
Icy from yon snow-clad mountains,
Mountains tipped with glistering silver;
Here beside the war of waters,
Waters from the heights of Homo,1
Dashing down from steeps above us,
Tremble cool and mystic vapors,
Mists that shroud the morning sunlight.
In the springtime, in the valley,
In the valley, on the hillside,
Flowers bedeck the winding pathways,
Leading down beside the waters,
Waters of the icy Merced.2
Here the timid deer and roebuck
Bask in sunshine midst the blossoms,
Basking near the salty waters,
Waters borne from granite mountains.
Here the songbird trills at evening,
Sweetly trills to nest of birdlings,
Birdlings keen to try their pinions,
Eager as a tottering infant.
Mighty land of deepened valleys,
Valleys 'twixt the snowy mountains,
Mountains vying with each other,
Stretching far in silent grandeur,
Summits clad in polished silver
By the waters blue and icy,
Icy from yon snow-clad mountains,
Mountains tipped with glistering silver;
Here beside the war of waters,
Waters from the heights of Homo,1
Dashing down from steeps above us,
Tremble cool and mystic vapors,
Mists that shroud the morning sunlight.
In the springtime, in the valley,
In the valley, on the hillside,
Flowers bedeck the winding pathways,
Leading down beside the waters,
Waters of the icy Merced.2
Here the timid deer and roebuck
Bask in sunshine midst the blossoms,
Basking near the salty waters,
Waters borne from granite mountains.
Here the songbird trills at evening,
Sweetly trills to nest of birdlings,
Birdlings keen to try their pinions,
Eager as a tottering infant.
Mighty land of deepened valleys,
Valleys 'twixt the snowy mountains,
Mountains vying with each other,
Stretching far in silent grandeur,
Summits clad in polished silver
In the valley of the Merced,
Dwelt the aged Arrow-Maker,
Who with matchless cunning fashioned
Feathered arrows, tipped with jasper,
Found among the flinty pebbles,
In the warm Arroyo Seco;3
Bows of oakwood strong he fashioned;
Made them for the stalwart hunters,
Hunters of the bear and bison.
Here beside the Merced waters,
In his wigwam lived he lonely,
Save for one, his dusky daughter,
Once beloved by dusky mother.
When the winter snows were melting,
Melting on the icy mountains,
Ere the flowers bedecked the hillsides,
Death from out their humble wigwam
Bare away a mother's spirit,
Spirit of the dusky mother.
And the lonely Arrow-Maker
Loved his comely, playful daughter,
Winsome little maid Tee-na-nay!
Dwelt the aged Arrow-Maker,
Who with matchless cunning fashioned
Feathered arrows, tipped with jasper,
Found among the flinty pebbles,
In the warm Arroyo Seco;3
Bows of oakwood strong he fashioned;
Made them for the stalwart hunters,
Hunters of the bear and bison.
Here beside the Merced waters,
In his wigwam lived he lonely,
Save for one, his dusky daughter,
Once beloved by dusky mother.
When the winter snows were melting,
Melting on the icy mountains,
Ere the flowers bedecked the hillsides,
Death from out their humble wigwam
Bare away a mother's spirit,
Spirit of the dusky mother.
And the lonely Arrow-Maker
Loved his comely, playful daughter,
Winsome little maid Tee-na-nay!
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