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 fallen leaf at the dawning of the day"
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 the 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 gifts of the mind, I gave her the secret sign 
That's known to the artists who have known true gods of sound and stone
 And word and tint without 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 the dawn of day
 When the Angel woos the clay, he'll lose his wings at the dawn of day