On Raglan Road on an autumn day I saw him first and knew
That his dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger and yet I walked 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 -
O, I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away

I gave him gifts of the mind, I gave him the secret sign that's known
To all the artists who have known true gods of sound and time
With word and tint I never did stint. I gave him rhymes of poems to say
So his name there and his shiny black hair like the clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see him walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he lose his wings at the dawn of the day