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 loved 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.