Verse 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. Verse 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, Well I loved too much; by such and such Is happiness thrown away. Verse I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret signs That's known to the artists who have known The true gods of sound and stone And word and tint did not stint I gave her poems to say With her own name there and her own dark hair Like clouds over fields of May Verse On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly My reason must allow That had I loved not as I should A creature made of clay When the angel woos the clay He'd lose his wings at the dawn of day
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