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, 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 passion's pledge 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 the 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 storm And word and tint I not did stint For I gave her poems to say With her own name there and her long, black 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 ruled not as I should A creature made of clay When the angel woos the clay he'll lose His wings at the dawn of dayTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
