Raglan Road on an Autumn day, I saw her first and knew. That her dark hair would weave a snare That I may one day rue. I saw the danger, yet I walked A long the en chanted 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 world of passions pledge. The Queen of Heart's still baking tarts And I not making hay, Well I loved too much by such and such Is happiness thrown away. I gave her the gifts of the mind. I gave her the secret sign That's known to all the artists who have Known true Gods of Sound and Time. With word and tint I did not stint. I gave her reems of poems to say With her own dark hair and her own name there Like the clouds over fields of May. On a quiet where old ghosts meet, I see her 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 heel lose His wings at the dawn of the day.