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.