from childhood´s hour i have not been
as others were ¡ª i have not seen
as others saw ¡ª 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 ¡ª in my childhood ¡ª in the dawn
of a most stormy life ¡ª was drawn
from ev´ry depth of good and ill
to 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 ¡ª
from the lightning in the sky
as it pass´d me flying by ¡ª
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.