| lyric | 1. On Raglan Raod of 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 passed,
a long the enchanted way,
And I said let grief be a fallen leaf
at the dawning of the day.
2. On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion play.
The Queen of hearts still making tarts, and I not making hay.
Oh, I loved too much and by such and such
Is happiness thrown away.
3. I gave her gifts of the mind, I gave her the secret signs
That's known to the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stm
And word and tint I did not stint, but I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair.
Like clouds over fields of May.
4. 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 loved 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. |