Ichabod
Gone is the glory from the hills, The autumn sunshine from the mere, Which mourns for the declining year In all her tributary rills. A sense of change obscurely chills The misty twilight atmosphere, In which familiar things appear Like alien ghosts, foreboding ills. The twilight hour a month ago Was full of pleasant warmth and ease, The pearl of all the twenty-four. Erelong the winter gales shall blow, Erelong the winter frosts shall freeze-- And oh, that it were June once more!
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"Gone is the glory from the hills,..."
This evocative piece by Robert Fuller Murray, titled "Ichabod", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...