by Edgar Allen 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 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 Mysterey 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.
-The End-
