^.^For my gorgeous sweetie
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.
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 and by such and such
Is happiness thrown away.
I gave her the gifts of the mind.
I gave her the secret sign
That's known to all the artists who have know
The true Gods of Sound and the stone.
And word and tint without stint.
I gave her reams of poems to say
With her own dark hair and her own name there
Like the 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,
Let I have wooed, not as I should
A creature made of clay.
When the angel woos the clay, he'll lose
His wings at the dawn of the day.