On Raglan Road
On Raglan Road, Autumn day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
I might one day rue
I saw the danger and I passed
Along the enchanted way
And I said, "Let grief be a fallen leaf
At the dawning of the day"
On Grafton Street, November, we
Tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passion's play
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
I not making hay
Oh, I loved too much, by such by such
Is happiness thrown away
I gave her gifts of the mind
I gave her the secret signs
That's known to artists who have known
The true gods of sound and stone
And her words and tint without stint
I gave her poems to say
With her own name there, her own dark hair
Like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly
My reason must allow
That I had loved not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay he'll lose
His wings at the dawn of a day