Would you know the mystic legend
Of the peaks of San Francisco—
Of the Twin Peaks standing Guardian
Of the gay and careless city,
Ever laughing by the gateway
Of our Golden California?

Would you know what brings the westwind,
With its cool and filmy vapors
Trailing like a scarf of chiffon
Through the narrow Golden Gateway,
Screening shore and hills and harbor,
While the country all around it
Bathes in floods of golden sunshine?

Would you know why great Sea Lions
Flounder on the rocky islands,
Standing by the Golden Gateway?
Why they fight in baffled fury,
Barking ever at the mainland?

Listen then, and I will tell you
As the legend was related
By an ancient Tamal woman,
As she sat beside the campfire
In a grove of giant redwoods
On the slopes of Tamalpais.

"It was long ago, my children,
Long ago, in mystic ages
When the Gods lived near the people,
Who, like infants newly mothered,
Needed care and help and guidance.
As the children call to parents
So the people called to Spirits.
Then the Gods were quick to listen,
Quick to teach them and protect them,
Quick to punish when they trespassed
On the rights of one another.

Near the place where Holy Fathers
Built the Mission of Dolores
Was a village of the Tamals,
Vanished now for many ages.
By it was a singing streamlet,
Where the willows waved their banners;
Round it giant redwoods clustered,
Redolent with forest odors;
Live oaks, bay trees, and madronas
Billowed over plains and hillsides.

Through the forest ranged the hunters,
Seeking game in glen and canyon,
Meat for food, and fur for raiment;
Vanquishing the forest creatures
With flint arrows and stone axes;
Seeking fish in bay and river
With the spear or net of sinew.
On the bay the warriors paddled
In canoes of bark or rawhide,
Or in mighty redwood dugouts
Dared the currents of the narrows
Training warriors to be ready
To defend their shores and harbor.

From the North the foemen threatened,
As an ever-present shadow.
O'er the water came the foemen,
In a mighty fleet of warboats;
Every summer came the foemen,
Came and fought and then retreated.

In his tepee sat the Chieftain
With the Old Men, wise in counsel;
All their hearts were solely troubled—
Every summer brought the foemen,
Those bronze men of fearless courage,
Waxing stronger every season—
Long they counseled with each other;
Would the foemen come and conquer?
Could the Tamals long withstand them?
Thus they questioned in the Council
While they planned their last defenses.

To the Council came the sisters,
Yana fair, and Tana fearless,
Twins, and daughters of the Chieftain,
Came and stood before the wise men,
Came and bowed their heads and waited.

Well the wise men knew the sisters,
Maidens blooming into women,
Loved them for their grace and beauty,
For the joy they radiated,
For the charm that emanated
From their chaste and gentle spirits,
As the perfume that is wafted
From the rose buds newly opened.

Yet the Wise Men gave no welcome,
Turned their eyes from Maids to Chieftain.
"Why, my Daughters, have you ventured
Into this, the warrior's council?
Well you know it is forbidden;
Neither man nor woman enters
When the warriors plan for battle."

"Let us speak," the Maidens answered,
"For we bring a warning message.
As we wandered on the ridges
Gathering the golden poppies
To adorn our Mother's tepee,
We were talking of the danger
From the foemen of the Northland,
When a Maiden stood before us,
Strangely fair, with golden tresses,
Eyes of deep blue like the lupins,
Dressed in garlands made of poppies.
Hand in hand we stood and wondered,
Till the lovely apparition
Smiled and caused our fears to vanish.
'I am the Spirit of the Country,'
Said the Maiden of the Poppies,
'And I choose you, my Twin Daughters,
For the beauty of your bodies,
And the worth of soul within you,
As the saviors of your people,
As the guardians of my harbor.
Take the message to your Chieftain,
That the foe comes from the Northland;
Yet they shall not harm your people
If you stand upon the hilltop
With the talisman I give you.
Take this Magic Iris with you,
Guard it well for every petal
Has a charm that brings an answer
To a prayer that is unselfish,
To a prayer for all the people
That will live around your harbor.
Never, while you guard the hilltop,
Shall a foe invade your country.
Petals three there are; three wishes
Shall be granted when you make them.'
Then the Poppy Maiden vanished,
And we hastened to our village.
Hand in hand, we ran so swiftly
That our feet but touched the flowers;
While above our heads the wild ducks
Flying southward clamored hoarsely,
'They are coming; They are coming!'
Sea gulls, winging from the ocean,
Shrieked their warning, 'They are coming!'
Then we dared to brave your Council
With the message of the Maiden,
And the warning of the seabirds.

'It is well,' the Chieftain answered,
'Daughters with the eyes of springtime
And the faces of the flowers,
It is well. The Gods have marked you
With their sign upon the forehead;
You have stood before a Goddess,
And her spirit is upon you.'

Long the Old Men sat and pondered.
Well they knew the ears of children
Are attuned to hear the voices
Of the Gods and Guardian Spirits.
Well they knew that all wild creatures
Speak to man if one is worthy
To receive their friendly warning;
Knew that seabirds, swift and cunning,
See the foemen while their war boats
Still are far beyond the sea-rim.
Thus they reasoned in their council,
Then they stood before the people
While the Chieftain gave his orders.

'Beat the war drums. Call the warriors.
Man the war canoes, and station
Sentinels upon the headlands
Up the coast-land to Bolinas.
Let them light the lurid war fires,
When they see the foemen coming.'

Swiftly northward raced the sentries
In their light canoes of deerskin—
Through the narrows to Bonita,
On the ocean to Bolinas.
All was tumult in the village;
To each warrior was given
Long bows, strong bows, wrapped with sinews,
Stores of arrows, eagle feathered,
Newly tipped with sharpest flint-heads;
Stone head war clubs, wrapped with rawhide;
Shields of oakwood, tough and heavy.
Women decked the braves with feathers,
Robes of fur, and charms of seashell;
Roused their courage with the stories
Of the prowess of their Fathers;
Cheered with songs of deeds of valor
Of the heroes of the Tamals;
While the children, heavy hearted,
Watched the scene in wide-eyed wonder.

Every day the Chieftain's daughters,
As twin sentinels were standing
On the hill between the valley
And the blue expanse of ocean.

Every day they watched the Morning
Reach his rosy fingers upward,
From behind the eastern mountains,
Painting with an elfin fancy,
Crimson edges on the cloudbanks;
Then erasing and repainting
Them with gold or mauve or amber;
Always changing, as his fancy
Swayed the child to blend the colors;
Till Old Father Sun uprising,
Drove his elfin son to shelter
From the dazzle of his presence.

All day long the faithful sisters
Stood upon the ridge and waited—
Waited while the Sun ascended,
Crossed the zenith, then descended
On his daily westward journey.
Watched him sink into the ocean
As a molten globe of metal;
While the fleecy clouds above him
Caught afire, and blazed in beauty,
Radiating flaming colors
Through the changing clouds, and lighting
O'er the purple sea a pathway
Glinting in a golden glory.

Evening came, and still they waited—
While the heavenly dome turned purple,
And the twinkling stars were lighted,
One by one, until the darkness
Scintillated with their sparkle;
And a milky way of star-dust
Arched across, to hold the heavens
High above the reach of mortals.

Through the night they watched and waited—
While the silver moon was racing
Through the silken clouds, a