Victoria Clementina, negress, Took seven white dogs To ride in a cab. Bells of the dog 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?