Oracles

LA COUREUSE Written in the Quartier Latin, Paris. A FADED skirt, a silken petticoat, A little jacket, a small shapely shoe, A toque. A symphony in gray and blue, The child ripples, the conquering master-note Sublety. Faint, stray showers of twilight float In shadows round the well-poised head ; dark, true, Joyous the eyes laugh—and are weeping too, For all the victory of her royal throat. She showed her purse with tantalizing grace : Some sous, a franc, a key, some stuff, soft grey. The mocking laughter trills upon her tongue : “ There’s all my fortune.” “ And your pretty face ! What do you do ? ” Wearily, “ I am gay.” “ What do you hope for ? ” Simply, “ To die young.” 160