C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Ichabod: the Glory has Departed
By Johann Ludwig Uhland (17871862)
I
Where moon is none and no stars lend light,
And rueful winds are blowing;
Yet oft have I trodden this way ere now,
With summer zephyrs a-fanning my brow,
And the gold of the sunshine glowing.
The death-stricken leaves around me fall,
And the night blast wails its dolors:
How oft with my love I have hitherward strayed
When the roses flowered, and all I surveyed
Was radiant with Hope’s own colors!
And the once bright roses are dead and wan,
And my love in her low grave molders;
And I ride through a dark, dark Land by night,
With never a star to bless me with light,
And the Mantle of Age on my shoulders.