Russian SoniaI, born in WeimarOf a mother who was FrenchAnd German father, a most learned professor,Orphaned at fourteen years,Became a dancer, known as Russian Sonia,All up and down the boulevards of Paris,Mistress betimes of sundry dukes and counts,And later of poor artists and of poets.At forty years,passée, I sought New YorkAnd met old Patrick Hummer on the boat,Red-faced and hale, though turned his sixtieth year,Returning after having sold a ship-loadOf cattle in the German city, Hamburg.He brought me to Spoon River and we lived hereFor twenty years—they thought that we were marriedThis oak tree near me is the favorite hauntOf blue jays chattering, chattering all the day.And why not? for my very dust is laughingFor thinking of the humorous thing called life.
I, born in WeimarOf a mother who was FrenchAnd German father, a most learned professor,Orphaned at fourteen years,Became a dancer, known as Russian Sonia,All up and down the boulevards of Paris,Mistress betimes of sundry dukes and counts,And later of poor artists and of poets.At forty years,passée, I sought New YorkAnd met old Patrick Hummer on the boat,Red-faced and hale, though turned his sixtieth year,Returning after having sold a ship-loadOf cattle in the German city, Hamburg.He brought me to Spoon River and we lived hereFor twenty years—they thought that we were marriedThis oak tree near me is the favorite hauntOf blue jays chattering, chattering all the day.And why not? for my very dust is laughingFor thinking of the humorous thing called life.