On Raglan Road of an autumn day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare

That I might one day rue
I saw the danger and I passed
Along the enchanted way

And said let grief be a fallen leaf
At the dawning of the day


On Grafton Street in November
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen

The worth of passion's pledge
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
And I not making hay

Oh I loved too much and by such by such
Is happiness thrown away


I gave her gifts of the mind
I gave her the secret signs
Known to the artists who have known

The true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint I 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


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 day