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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. | |
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| Beneath his high sombrero’s brim | 5 |
| His gait was wide and free; | |
| He walked as if he rode the range, | |
| He hardly seemed to see | |
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| The shops or windows of the street, | |
| But passed as if he dreamed. | 10 |
| His pale blue eyes were desert-dimmed, | |
| His face was desert-seamed. | |
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| He had an air of open space | |
| About him as he walked; | |
| He was a priest of mystery, | 15 |
| Because he never talked. | |
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| He ate in silence; the café | |
| Was hushed about his chair, | |
| He brought the mountains to the town, | |
| The mesas’ blinding glare. | 20 |
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| He brought siestas of high noon, | |
| Sierras bleak and lone | |
| Where sunlight builds on sunlit hills | |
| A sun-bronzed overtone. | |
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| He brought the breath of all outdoors— | 25 |
| Close-shut within himself | |
| He kept his wisdom all inside; | |
| I only guessed his wealth! | |
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