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, 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 worth of passion's pledge The Queen of Hearts still making tarts And I not making hay Oh I loved too much, and by such, by such Is happiness thrown away I gave her the 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 storm And word and tint I not did stint For I gave her poems to say With her own name there and her long, black hair Like 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 had ruled not as I should A creature made of clay When the angel woos the clay he'll lose His wings at the dawn of day