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.                                                                    
                                                                   
                                                                                                                                              Edgar Allan Poe                                                                     
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