Ichabod

Am G Dm Am G Dm Am G Dm Am So fallen, so lost, the light withdrawn G Which once he wore Dm The glory from his grey hair gone Am Forevermore Revile him not, the Tempter hath G A snare for all Dm And pitying tears, not scorn or wrath Am Befit his fall Oh, dumb be passion's stormy rage G When he who might Dm Have lighted up and led his age Am Falls back in night Scorn, would the angels laugh to mark G A bright soul driven Dm Fiend goaded down the endless dark Am From hope and heaven Let not the land once proud of him G Insult him now Dm Nor brand with deeper shame his dim Am Dishonoured brow But let its humbled sons instead G From sea to lake Dm A long lament, as for the dead Am In sadness make Of all we loved and honoured G Naught save power remains Dm A fallen angel's pride of thought Am Still strong in chains All else is gone from those great eyes G The soul has fled Dm When faith is lost, when honour dies Am The man is dead Then pay the reverence of old days G To his dead fame Dm Walk backward with averted gaze Am And hide the shame