On Raglan Road of 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 and I passed Along the enchanted way And I said, let grief be a fallen 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 I love too much and by such, by such Is happiness thrown away Oh, I gave her 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 stone And words and tint without stint I gave her poems to say With her own name there and her own dark 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 reasons must allow That I have loved not as I should A creature made from clay When the angel woos A clay he'd lose His wings at the dawn of day