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Poem by Edgar Allan PoeFrom childhood's hour I have not beenAs others were - I have not seenAs others saw - I could not bringMy passions from a common springFrom the same source I have not takenMy sorrow; I could not awakenMy heart to joy at the same tone;And all I lov'd, I lov'd aloneThen - in my childhood - in the dawnOf a most stormy life - was drawnFrom ev'ry depth of good and illThe mystery which binds me still:From the torrent, or the fountain,From the red cliff of the mountainFrom the sun that 'round me roll'dIn it's autumn tint of gold -From the lighting in the skyAs it pass'd me flying by -From the thunder and the storm,And the cloud that look the form(When the rest of Heaven was blue)Of a demon in my view.
Poem by Edgar Allan PoeFrom childhood's hour I have not beenAs others were - I have not seenAs others saw - I could not bringMy passions from a common springFrom the same source I have not takenMy sorrow; I could not awakenMy heart to joy at the same tone;And all I lov'd, I lov'd aloneThen - in my childhood - in the dawnOf a most stormy life - was drawnFrom ev'ry depth of good and illThe mystery which binds me still:From the torrent, or the fountain,From the red cliff of the mountainFrom the sun that 'round me roll'dIn it's autumn tint of gold -From the lighting in the skyAs it pass'd me flying by -From the thunder and the storm,And the cloud that look the form(When the rest of Heaven was blue)Of a demon in my view.
 
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