On 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 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 pa**ions pledged The Queen of Hearts 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 reams of poems to say With her own dark hair and her own name there 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 For I have wooed, not as I should A creature made of clay When the angel woos the clay, he'll lose His wings at the dawn of the day