The Twin Guardians of the Golden Gate
The Sea Gulls
The Islands of the Bay
The Lake of Merita



The Maid of Tamalpais.



This she told me in the firelight
As I sat beside her campfire,
In a grove of giant redwoods,
On the slope of Tamalpais.

Old she was, and bent and wrinkled,
Lone survivor of the Tamals,
Ancient tribe of Indian people,
Who have left their name and legend
On the mountain they held sacred.
On the ground she sat and brooded,
With a blanket wrapped around her -
Sat and gazed into the campfire.
On her bronze and furrowed features,
On her hair of snowy whiteness,
Played the shadows and the firelight.
Long she gazed into the embers,
And I feared I had offended
In the question I had asked her.