Raglan Road

On Raglan Road on 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 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 passions pledge. 
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts 
and I not making hay. 
Oh, I loved too much by such, by such 
is happiness blown away. 

I gave her gifts of the mind, 
I gave her the secret sign that's known 
to the artists who have known the true 
gods of sound and stone. 
And word and tint I did not stint 
for I gave her poems to say. 
With her own name there and her 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 ruled, not as I should. 
A creature made of clay. 
When the angel woos the clay, 
he'll lose his wings at the dawn of day.

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Neend Aati Nahein
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