Joan Osborne - 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 yet I walked 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 passions pledge. The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay. Oh, I loved too much by such, by such is happiness blown 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 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 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 day.