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 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 lov’d—I lov’d alone—

Then—in my childhood—in the dawn of a most stormy life—was drawn

From ev’ry 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)

Of a demon in my view