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 —