Raglan Road

On raglan road on an autumn day

I saw he first and knew

That his dark hair would weave a snare

That I might one day rue

I saw the danger and 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

For I loved too much, by such and such

Is happiness thrown away

I gave he the gifts of the mind

I gave he the secret sign

Thats known to all the artists who have

Known true gods of sound and time

With word and tint I did not stint

I gave he reams of poems to say

With his own dark hair and his own name there

Like the clouds over fields of may

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet

I see he 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, hell lose

His wings at the dawn of the day