On Raglan Road
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.
On Raglan RoadLRC歌词
[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.
