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 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.