"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 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—
Edgar Allan Poe
Другие работы автора
The Bells
I Hear the sledges with the bells- Silver bells What a world of merriment their melody foretells How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crys...
Evening Star
’Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro’ the light
The Happiest Day-The Happiest Hour
The happiest day- the happiest hour My sear'd and blighted heart hath known, The highest hope of pride and power, I feel hath flown Of power said I yes
Romance
Romance, who loves to nod and sing, With drowsy head and folded wing, Among the green leaves as they shake Far down within some shadowy lake,