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And the women of the Haidas plied in vain their magic power, Wailed for many moons her absence, wailed for many moons their prayer, "Bring her back, O Squamish foeman, bring to us our Yaada flower!" But the silence only answered their despair.

But the men were swift to battle, swift to cross the coastal water, Swift to war and swift of weapon, swift to paddle trackless miles, Crept with stealth along the canyon, stole her from her love and brought her Once again unto the distant Charlotte Isles.

But she faded, ever faded, and her eyes were ever turning Southward toward the Capilano, while her voice had hushed its song, And her riven heart repeated words that on her lips were burning: "Not to friend—but unto foeman I belong.

"Give me back my Squamish lover—though you hate, I still must love him. "Give me back the rugged canyon where my heart must ever be— Where his lodge awaits my coming, and the Dream Hills lift above him, And the Capilano learned its song from me."