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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 thhe 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 lighting of 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~ . .
~Edgar Allan Poe~