Alone
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 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.