The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/The Lost Arrow
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!
Then he made a tiny cradle,
Made it from the bark of birches,
Made it soft from fur of beaver.
In her cradle small Tee-na-nay
Laid a furry mountain rabbit;
And she sang a mother's love-song
To the little sleeping rabbit.
In a corner of the wigwam,
There she made a little tepee,
Tepee for her little infant.
Thus the rabbit and Tee-na-nay
And the aged Arrow-Maker
Dwelt beside the icy waters,
Waters of the icy Merced.
Berries then from neighboring hillside
Small Tee-na-nay roamed to gather;
Hopping with her, little rabbit
Played among the fragrant grasses.
Thus Tee-na-nay and her rabbit
Grew together in the wigwam
Of the ancient Arrow-Maker.
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!
Then he made a tiny cradle,
Made it from the bark of birches,
Made it soft from fur of beaver.
In her cradle small Tee-na-nay
Laid a furry mountain rabbit;
And she sang a mother's love-song
To the little sleeping rabbit.
In a corner of the wigwam,
There she made a little tepee,
Tepee for her little infant.
Thus the rabbit and Tee-na-nay
And the aged Arrow-Maker
Dwelt beside the icy waters,
Waters of the icy Merced.
Berries then from neighboring hillside
Small Tee-na-nay roamed to gather;
Hopping with her, little rabbit
Played among the fragrant grasses.
Thus Tee-na-nay and her rabbit
Grew together in the wigwam
Of the ancient Arrow-Maker.
When the mountain snowdrifts melted,
Then with rod of bending willow,
Line of sinew of the wildcat,
Hook from tiny bone of minnow,
She the speckled fishes captured
For the aged Arrow-Maker,
As he sat beside the wigwam,
Dreaming of the dusky mother,
Mother of the loved Tee-na-nay!
When the evening shadows gathered
Round the humble little wigwam,
Came the trill of wakeful night-bird.
Then he crooned a gentle night-song
To his sleeping dusky daughter.
Bronzed her cheek and black her tresses,
Tresses blown by summer south-wind!
Fleet of foot was she, Tee-na-nay,
Keen of eye to follow footsteps,
Footsteps of the deer and bison.
And the lovely young Tee-na-nay
Vied in song with mellow wood-birds;
Happy she, the dusky maiden,
Daughter of the Arrow-Maker.
Then to valley of the Merced
Came one far from o'er the mountain,
Mountain of the shining jasper;4
Jasper-tipped his spear and arrows,
Strong of arm to twang the bowstring,
Swift to chase the deer and bison,
Bearing bow and feathered arrows
For the deer and savage panther.
He from o'er yon mountain journeyed;
And he loved the dusky maiden,
Daughter of the Arrow-Maker,
Strong Kos-su-ka from the mountain.
Love, beneath a mortal bosom,
Be it bronzed or white as marble,
Thrills the heart in rhythmic softness;
Sadness ne'er the heart may suffer.
Then with rod of bending willow,
Line of sinew of the wildcat,
Hook from tiny bone of minnow,
She the speckled fishes captured
For the aged Arrow-Maker,
As he sat beside the wigwam,
Dreaming of the dusky mother,
Mother of the loved Tee-na-nay!
When the evening shadows gathered
Round the humble little wigwam,
Came the trill of wakeful night-bird.
Then he crooned a gentle night-song
To his sleeping dusky daughter.
Bronzed her cheek and black her tresses,
Tresses blown by summer south-wind!
Fleet of foot was she, Tee-na-nay,
Keen of eye to follow footsteps,
Footsteps of the deer and bison.
And the lovely young Tee-na-nay
Vied in song with mellow wood-birds;
Happy she, the dusky maiden,
Daughter of the Arrow-Maker.
Then to valley of the Merced
Came one far from o'er the mountain,
Mountain of the shining jasper;4
Jasper-tipped his spear and arrows,
Strong of arm to twang the bowstring,
Swift to chase the deer and bison,
Bearing bow and feathered arrows
For the deer and savage panther.
He from o'er yon mountain journeyed;
And he loved the dusky maiden,
Daughter of the Arrow-Maker,
Strong Kos-su-ka from the mountain.
Love, beneath a mortal bosom,
Be it bronzed or white as marble,
Thrills the heart in rhythmic softness;
Sadness ne'er the heart may suffer.
Then with quivers filled with arrows,
Arrows tipped with hint and jasper,
Sought they for the deer and roebuck,
O'er the hills and through the valleys.
And they brought the grouse and plover
And the fishes from the river;
Brought they, too, the luscious berries
For the hoary Arrow-Maker.
And the stalwart, brave Kos-su-ka,
Spoke of love to young Tee-na-nay,
Daughter of the Arrow-Maker.
Bowed the head with raven tresses;
Murmured she of dusky mother,
Dim remembered through long summers.
Quoth the stalwart, brave Kos-su-ka:
"I will make for you a wigwam,
Make it of the pine and fir-tree,
Make it warm with fur of beaver,
Make it down beside the Merced,
Where a little dusky maiden
Tripped beside the icy waters,
Happy, beauteous young Tee-na-nay."
Then they roamed the flowery hillside,
Sang at eve beside the wigwam;
Sang they too as shadows gathered,
Vying with the trill of wood-birds.
In their birch canoe they paddled,
Paddled 'neath the drooping willows,
Gathered too the water-lilies,
Lilies on the pearly waters.
Arrows tipped with hint and jasper,
Sought they for the deer and roebuck,
O'er the hills and through the valleys.
And they brought the grouse and plover
And the fishes from the river;
Brought they, too, the luscious berries
For the hoary Arrow-Maker.
And the stalwart, brave Kos-su-ka,
Spoke of love to young Tee-na-nay,
Daughter of the Arrow-Maker.
Bowed the head with raven tresses;
Murmured she of dusky mother,
Dim remembered through long summers.
Quoth the stalwart, brave Kos-su-ka:
"I will make for you a wigwam,
Make it of the pine and fir-tree,
Make it warm with fur of beaver,
Make it down beside the Merced,
Where a little dusky maiden
Tripped beside the icy waters,
Happy, beauteous young Tee-na-nay."
Then they roamed the flowery hillside,
Sang at eve beside the wigwam;
Sang they too as shadows gathered,
Vying with the trill of wood-birds.
In their birch canoe they paddled,
Paddled 'neath the drooping willows,
Gathered too the water-lilies,
Lilies on the pearly waters.
Spake the hoary Arrow-Maker:
"Do not leave me, O my children.
In the valley, 'twixt the mountains,
Snowy mountains grim and lonely,
All my people gone forever,
Gone into the glowing sunset,
To the Land of the Hereafter."
Spake the ancient Arrow-Maker:
"Come and share my humble wigwam;
None beside you made so welcome,
None beside you of my people."
Then Kos-su-ka and Tee-na-nay
Spake the words that brought him comfort,
Comfort to the Arrow-Maker:
"We will share with thee thv wigwam,
Bring to thee of deer and plover,
Bring to thee of luscious berries,
Bring to thee of speckled fishes."
Ere the sun touched spire-like summits,
Quiver filled with feather arrows,
Arrows tipped with flint and jasper,
Clambered high the young Kos-su-ka,
Clambered he the heights of Homo;
Sought he for the deer and plover,
Nuptial feast for the to-morrow!
Thus spake he to sweet Tee-na-nay:
"Sit you by the foot of Homo;
List above for twang of bow-string:
For when all the game is slaughtered,
By that sign I will apprise you."
Thus the livelong day she listened;
Thus through all the night she waited;
Thus she watched for flight of arrow.
Naught she heard of twang of bowstring!
Naught she saw of feathered arrow!
Ere the light had touched old Homo,
Horror seized the young Tee-na-nay.
Climbing up, she gazed about her;
There the feast—but not Kos-su-ka!
Footsteps point to brink of Homo;
Slippery brink, a deadly pitfall!
Peering down—she moans in anguish!
"Do not leave me, O my children.
In the valley, 'twixt the mountains,
Snowy mountains grim and lonely,
All my people gone forever,
Gone into the glowing sunset,
To the Land of the Hereafter."
Spake the ancient Arrow-Maker:
"Come and share my humble wigwam;
None beside you made so welcome,
None beside you of my people."
Then Kos-su-ka and Tee-na-nay
Spake the words that brought him comfort,
Comfort to the Arrow-Maker:
"We will share with thee thv wigwam,
Bring to thee of deer and plover,
Bring to thee of luscious berries,
Bring to thee of speckled fishes."
Ere the sun touched spire-like summits,
Quiver filled with feather arrows,
Arrows tipped with flint and jasper,
Clambered high the young Kos-su-ka,
Clambered he the heights of Homo;
Sought he for the deer and plover,
Nuptial feast for the to-morrow!
Thus spake he to sweet Tee-na-nay:
"Sit you by the foot of Homo;
List above for twang of bow-string:
For when all the game is slaughtered,
By that sign I will apprise you."
Thus the livelong day she listened;
Thus through all the night she waited;
Thus she watched for flight of arrow.
Naught she heard of twang of bowstring!
Naught she saw of feathered arrow!
Ere the light had touched old Homo,
Horror seized the young Tee-na-nay.
Climbing up, she gazed about her;
There the feast—but not Kos-su-ka!
Footsteps point to brink of Homo;
Slippery brink, a deadly pitfall!
Peering down—she moans in anguish!
In each other's arms they found them;
Spirits flown, and flown together!
And the feathered signal-arrow
Never fell upon the valley,
Never fell beside the Merced.
But (as wrinkled sachems whisper)
Sped into the purple twilight;
Sped beyond the mystic sunset,
With the souls of young Kos-su-ka
And his lovely bride Tee-na-nay;
Sped with them to happy meadows,
And the Manitou's tall wigwam.
Spirits flown, and flown together!
And the feathered signal-arrow
Never fell upon the valley,
Never fell beside the Merced.
But (as wrinkled sachems whisper)
Sped into the purple twilight;
Sped beyond the mystic sunset,
With the souls of young Kos-su-ka
And his lovely bride Tee-na-nay;
Sped with them to happy meadows,
And the Manitou's tall wigwam.
Nov. 1, 1919
1 A cliff 2,600 feet high, beside Yosemite Falls, Calif.
2 A small river in Yosemite Valley.
3 A ravine; Spanish for "Dry Creek."
4 Obsidian cliff; glass mountain, Yellowstone Park.