From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were,—I have not seen
As others 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 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 a mountain,
From the Sun that rolled me roll'd
In its 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 took the form,
(When the rest of heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
By Edgar Allan Poe
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A Collection of Poems & Short Stories
PoesiePoems, the rhythm of words and meaning together, a hobby intelligent people enjoy doing. I'd like to think dauntless people are capable of changing the world through writing. WARNING! This story may contain some of the following- •Strong Language •...
