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.
Then- 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 rolled
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.
(nostalgitrippar)
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