Victoria Clementina, negress,
Took seven white dogs
To ride in a cab.
Bells of the dogs chinked.
Harness of the horses shuffled
Like brazen shells.
Oh-hé-hé! Fragrant puppets
By the green lake-pallors,
She too is flesh,
And a breech-cloth might wear,
Netted of topaz and ruby
And savage blooms;
Thridding the squawkiest jungle
In a golden sedan,
White dogs at bay.
What breech-cloth might you wear
Except linen, embroidered
By elderly women?
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