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- Thou- in my childhood- 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 it’s 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.