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 [bad word] 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 eround 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.