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

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

I gave her the gifts of the mind

I gave her the secret sign

That's known to all the artists who have

Known true Gods of Sound and Time

With word and tint I did not stint

I gave her reams of poems to say

With her own dark hair and her own name there

Like the 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

For I have wooed, not as I should

A creature made of clay

When the angel woos the clay, he'll lose

His wings at the dawn of the day