Standard (EADGBE)

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 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 signs

That's known to the artists who have known,

the true gods of sound and stone

And word and tint, without stint,

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'd lose, his wings at the dawn of day