Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been

As others were, I have not seen

As others saw, I could not bring

My passions from the common spring.

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow, I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone,

And all I loved, I loved alone.

Then in my childhood, in the dawn

Of a most stormy life was drawn

From every depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still:

From the torrent, and the fountain,

From the red cliff of the mountain,

From the sun that 'round me rolled

In its autumn tint of gold;

From the lightning in the sky,

As it passed me, flying by,

From the thunder, and the storm,

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view.



-- Edgar Allan Poe, 1875

