Edgar Allan Poe (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 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 the mountain — 
From the sun that round me rolled 
In its autumn tint of gold — 
From the lightning in the sky 
As it passed 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 —
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