Edgar Allen Poe Stories

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 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 its autumn tint of gold-

From the lightning in the sky

As it pass'd 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-