On Raglan Road of an autumn day
That her dark hair would weave a snare
I saw the danger, and I passed
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 passions pledged
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
Oh, I loved too much and by such, by such
I gave her gifts of the mind
I gave her the secret sign
Known to the artists who have known
The true gods of sound and stone
In word and tint I did not stint
With her own name there and her own dark hair
Like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
Away from me so hurriedly
That I had loved not as I should
When the angel woos the clay
He'd lose his wings at the dawn of day