Alice Corbin Henderson

American poet, editor, and critic associated with the Chicago literary renaissance, known for her interest in Southwestern and Native American themes in poetry. Biografie ↓Mehr ↓

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Gedichte

El Rito de Santa Fe

This valley is not ours, nor these mountains, Nor the names we give them — they belong, They, and this sweep of sun-washed air, Desert and hill and crumbling earth. To those who have lain here long years And felt the soak of the sun Through the red sand and crumbling rock, Till even their bones were part of the sun-steeped valley; How many years we know not, nor what names They gave to antelope, wolf, or bison. To prairie dog or coyote. To this hill where we stand, Or the moon over your shoulder . . . Let us build a monument to Time That knows all, sees all, and contains all, To whom these bones in the valley are even as we are:

Alice Corbin Henderson

The Wind

The wind is carrying me round the sky; The wind is carrying me round the sky. My body is here in the valley — The wind is carrying me round the sky.

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Fear

The odor of death In the front of my body. The odor of death Before me —

Is there any one Who would weep for me? My wife Would weep for me.

Parting

Now I go, do not weep, woman — Woman, do not weep; Though I go from you to die, We shall both lie down At the foot of the hill, and sleep.

Now I go, do not weep, woman — Woman, do not weep; Earth is our mother and our tent the sky. Though I go from you to die. We shall both lie down At the foot of the hill, and sleep.

Dust-whorl

The wind picks up a handful of dust, And sets it down — Faint spiral of lives Lived long ago on the desert.

Trees and Horses

Trees stand motionless among themselves, Some are solitary.

Horses wander over wide pastures; At night they herd closely, Rumps hunched to the wind.

Bird-song and Wire

The Rocky Mountain blue-bird Is a point of blue fire ; The meadow-lark Sings above the hum Of the telephone wire.

Straight and gaunt The poles stand; They walk stiffly Over a thousand leagues Of rough land.

The Wrestler

The tired wind creeps down the canyon At nightfall.

By day it turns and flings itself Against the granite face of the mountains.

Foot-hills

New Mexico hills Are spotted like lizards, They sinuously glide and dissemble; If you take a forked stick You may catch one and hold it.

Waiting

More still than death That waits a thousand years In a new-ploughed field Of up-turned bones;

So will I wait for you A thousand years.

Biografie

American poet, editor, and critic born in 1881 and died in 1949. She served as assistant editor of Poetry magazine and was a key figure in the Chicago literary renaissance. Corbin Henderson's poetry often explores the landscapes and cultures of the American Southwest, incorporating Native American imagery and themes. Her notable collections include 'The Spinning Woman of the Sky' and 'Red Earth.' She also edited anthologies and promoted modernist poetry, contributing to the development of American verse in the early twentieth century.

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