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.
Very nice poem. Thanks to Mr. Banger… Youll never know wh this is.
I disagree that the second half of the poem is off track. I think it’s fairly obvious that in the first half the narrator considers himself unique and emotionally different than his peers. But the realization he has at the end…delivered beautifully in the last two lines…is that he is not merely different, but possibly evil. The mystery of his life will be wrestling with this demon on the horizon that presumably will get closer and closer.