Alone

(Edgar Allan Poe)

From a childhood´s hour I have not been
As others were-I have not seen
As others saw-I could not bring
My passions from a common spring
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow-Icould not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone-
And all I lov´d-I lov´d alone-
Then-in my childhood-in the dawn
Of a most stormy life-was drawn
From ev´ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still-
From the torrent, or the fountain-
From the red cliff of the montain-
From the sun that round me roll´d
In its autumn tint of gold-
From the lighting of the sky
As it pass´d me flying by-
From the tunder, and the storm-
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view-