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 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 worst of passions pledged. The Queen of Hearts still making tarts And I not making hay, Well 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 artists who have known The true Gods of Sound and the stone. And word and tint without stint. I gave her poems to say With her own name there and her own dark hair Like the 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 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.
[00:01.480] [00:02.560]On Raglan Road on an Autumn Day, [00:11.360]I saw her first and knew [00:19.050]That her dark hair would weave a snare [00:28.090]That I might one day rue. [00:35.110]I saw the danger, and I passed [00:44.040]Along the enchanted way [00:50.150]And I said let grief be a fallen leaf [00:58.020]At the dawning of the day. [01:07.260]On Grafton Street in November, [01:14.380]We tripped lightly along the ledge [01:22.390]Of a deep ravine where can be seen [01:29.520]The worst of passions pledged. [01:36.050]The Queen of Hearts still making tarts [01:42.960]And I not making hay, [01:49.230]Well I loved too much, and by such by such [01:57.310]Is happiness thrown away. [02:05.300]I gave her gifts of the mind [02:11.850]I gave her the secret sign [02:21.040]that's known to artists who have known [02:28.030]The true Gods of Sound and the stone. [02:35.200]And word and tint without stint. [02:42.210] I gave her poems to say [02:49.080]With her own name there and her own dark hair [02:57.670]Like the clouds over fields of May. [03:06.580]On a quiet street where old ghosts meet, [03:13.550]I see her walking now [03:20.950]Away from me so hurriedly. My reason must allow, [03:36.060]That I have loved, not as I should [03:43.870]A creature made of clay. [03:50.040]When the angel woos the clay, he'll lose [03:58.570]His wings at the dawn of the day.
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