Alice Corbin

From “New Mexico Songs”

HIS legs were bowed in leather chaps,

His hair was sun-bleached brown,

No barber’s hand had touched his beard

Since he was last in town.

Beneath his high sombrero’s brim

His gait was wide and free;

He walked as if he rode the range,

He hardly seemed to see

The shops or windows of the street,

But passed as if he dreamed.

His pale blue eyes were desert-dimmed,

His face was desert-seamed.

He had an air of open space

About him as he walked;

He was a priest of mystery,

Because he never talked.

He ate in silence; the café

Was hushed about his chair,

He brought the mountains to the town,

The mesas’ blinding glare.

He brought siestas of high noon,

Sierras bleak and lone

Where sunlight builds on sunlit hills

A sun-bronzed overtone.

He brought the breath of all outdoors—

Close-shut within himself

He kept his wisdom all inside;

I only guessed his wealth!