Raglan Road

On Raglan Road on an Autumn dayÂ

I saw her first and knew,Â

that her dark hair would weave a snareÂ

that I might one day rue.Â

I saw the danger yet I walkedÂ

along the enchanted way.Â

And I said, "Let grief be a fallen leafÂ

at the dawning of the day."Â

On Grafton Street in November,Â

we tripped lightly along the ledgeÂ

of a deep ravine where can be seenÂ

the worth of passions pledge.Â

The Queen of Hearts still making tartsÂ

and I not making hay.Â

Oh, I loved too much by such, by suchÂ

is happiness blown away.Â

I gave her gifts of the mind,Â

I gave her the secret sign that's knownÂ

to the artists who have known the trueÂ

gods of sound and stone.Â

And word and tint I did not stintÂ

for I gave her poems to say.Â

With her own name there and her dark hair,Â

like clouds over fields of May.Â

On a quiet street where old ghosts meetÂ

I see her walking now,Â

away from me so hurriedly.Â

My reason must allow,Â

that I had ruled, not as I should.Â

A creature made of clay.Â

When the angel woos the clay,Â

he'll lose his wings at the dawn of day.