Raglan Road

On Raglan Road

on 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 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,

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 sign

That's known to the artists who have Known

the true Gods of Sound and stone.

and word and tint without a stint.

I gave her poems to say

With her own name there and her own dark hair

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,

That I have loved,

not as I should

A creature made of clay.

When the angel woos the playing loose

here's wings at the dawn of day.