Raglan Road - Patrick Kavanagh 1946.
A poem by Patrick Kavanagh of unrequited love for Hilda Moriarty, a medical student from Co. Kerry. Years later Patrick gifted the song to Luke Kelly of the Dubliners in The Bailey Pub in Dublin.
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, and I passed, 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 pledged
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts, And I not making hay
Oh, I 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 the artists who have known
The true gods of sound and stone
With word and tint I did not 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 had loved not as I should, A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay, He'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.