Classic Poem

My uncle was a ranger
In old Fort Griffin days.
And there he saw a woman
He could not help but praise.

Her dress was dark and splendid,
Her hands were fair and long,
Her eyes were soft and shining,
Her voice was full of song.

You would not think to find her
In any gambling den,
But every night at poker
She played with all the men.

And no man dared insult her,
And no one knew her name;
When she had won a fortune,
She vanished like a flame.

Leaving in shoddy fabric,
A thread of gold and blue,—
The only touch of glamour
My uncle ever knew.