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 for a 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, or the fountain-
From the red cliff of the mountain-
From the sun that round me rolled
In it's autumn tint of gold-
From the lightening 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.-
By Edgar Allen Poe
