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Alone, 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 ever loved- I loved alone- then- In my childhood- in the dawn of a most stormy life- 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 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) a demon in my view.
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