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 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 worth of passions play
The queen of hearts still making tarts and i not making hay
But i loved too much by such and such is happiness thrown away
I gave him the gifts of the mind i gave him the secret sign
That's known to the artists who have known true gods of sound and time
With word and tint i never did stint i gave him reams of poems to say
With his own 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'll lose his wings at the dawn of the day
Writer(s): Van Morrison, Paddy Moloney, Patrick Kavanagh
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