On Raglan Road on an Autumn Day,
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I may one day rue.
I saw the danger, yet I walked
Along the enchanted way
And I said let grief be a falling leaf
At the dawning of the day.
Verse
On Grafton Street in November,
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worst of passions pledged.
The Queen of Hearts still baking tarts
And I not making hay,
Well I loved too much; by such and such
Is happiness thrown away.
Verse
I gave her gifts of the mind
I gave her the secret signs
That's known to the artists who have known
The true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint did not stint
I gave her poems to say
With her own name there and her own dark hair
Like clouds over fields of May
Verse
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly
My reason must allow
That had I loved not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay
He'd lose his wings at the dawn of day