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 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 passions pledge The Queen of Hearts still making tarts And I not making hay Oh I loved too much and by such by such Is happiness thrown away I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret signs Known to the artists who have known The true gods of sound and stone And word and tint I 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 On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I had loved not as I should A creature made of clay When the angel woos the clay Hell lose his wings at the dawn of day...
Posted on: Sun, 16 Mar 2014 02:45:37 +0000
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