(Patrick Kavanagh, 1946)
C Am F C G C
On Raglan Road of an Autumn day, I saw her first and knew
F C Am C Am G
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue
F C Am C Am G
I saw the danger, yet I passed along the enchanted way
C Am F C G C
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 pledged
The Queen of Hearts, still making tarts; and I not making hay
For I’ve loved too much, and by such, by such is happiness thrown away
I gave her gifts of the mind; I gave her the secret sign
That’s known to artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
By word and dint I ne’er did 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 have wooed not as I should a creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay he’ll lose his wings at the break of day
(Repeat 1st verse)