Poetry · Alone

Alone

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—

Thou⁠—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 roll’d

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.