[00:02.70]On Raglan Road on an autumn day
[00:13.77]I saw her first and knew
[00:16.92]That her dark hair would weave a snare
[00:17.64]That I might one day rue
[00:38.40]I saw the danger, yet I passed
[00:48.66]Along the enchanted way
[00:50.85]And I said, "Let grief be a falling leaf
[00:57.93]At the dawning of the day"
[01:07.08]On Grafton Street in November
[01:13.98]We tripped lightly along the ledge
[01:22.02]Of a deep ravine where can be seen
[01:31.20]The worth of passions pledged
[01:35.40]The 'Queen of Hearts' still making tarts
[01:44.58]And I not making hay
[01:45.72]Oh, I loved too much and by such, by such
[01:54.00]Is happiness thrown away
[02:08.55]I gave her gifts of the mind
[02:15.06]I gave her the secret sign
[02:27.24]That's known to the artists who have known
[02:29.55]The true gods of sound and stone
[02:34.02]And word and tint I did not stint
[02:44.82]For I gave her poems to say
[02:45.66]With her own name there and her own dark hair
[03:05.70]Like clouds over fields of May
[03:06.33]On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
[03:21.12]I see her walking now
[03:21.51]Away from me so hurriedly
[03:27.03]My reason must allow
[03:28.23]That I had loved not as I should
[03:28.83]A creature made of clay
[03:34.11]When the angel woos the clay
[03:59.79]He'll lose his wings at dawn of day

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 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
And word and tint I did not stint
For 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'll lose his wings at dawn of day