When rainy nights are soft with tears,
And Autumn leaves are falling,
I hear his voice on tumbling waves
And no one there to hold me.

At evening's fall he watched me walk.
His heart was mine.
But my love was young, and felt
The world was not [bad word]  but kind.

Where Lagan's light fell on the hour,
I saw him far below me
Just as the morning calmed the storm
With no one there to hold him.

My loves [bad word]  my loves have gone,
And nothing's left to warn me,
Save for a voice on the traveling wind,
And the glimpse of a face at morning.