Luyện nghe bài hát Ichabod

(John Whittier & Lorne Entress)

So fallen, so lost, the withdrawn
Which once he
The glory his gray hair gone

Revile him not, the hath
A for all
And tears, not scorn and wrath
his fall

Oh dumb be passion's rage
he who might
Have up and led his age
back in night

Scorn, would the laugh to mark
A bright driven
Fiend-goaded down the dark
hope and heaven

Let not the once proud of him
him now
Nor brand with deeper his dim
brow

But let its humbled instead
From sea to
A long lament, as for the
In sadness

Of all we loved and
Naught save remains
A angel's pride of thought
Still strong in

All else is gone from those great
The has fled
faith is lost when honor dies
The man is

Then pay the reverence of old
To his fame
Walk backward with gaze