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

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