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 what I lov'd, I lov'd alone.
Then in my childhood, in the dawn
Of the 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 roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the twilight 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.