Poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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 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 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 mountain
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In it’s autumn tint of gold –
From the lighting in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by –
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that look the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.