Ichabod
Synopsis
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore! The glory from his gray hairs gone Forevermore! Revile him not, the Tempter hath A snare for all; And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, Befit his fall! Oh, dumb be ion's stormy rage, When he who might Have lighted up and led his age, Falls back in night.
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