Alone 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 bind 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
strom
And the cloud that took the
form,
When the rest of Heaven was
blue,
Of a demon in my view.
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