Текст песни Raglan Road (Dawning of the Day) - Peter Rowan

On Raglan Road, on an August 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 fallin' 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 true 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 artist who has seen
The true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint, I did not stint,
I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there,
And her long dark hair,
Like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where the old ghosts meet,
I see her walking now
Away from me so horridly,
My reason must allow
That I had wooed, 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