"Alone," by Edgar Allan Poe

First published in 1875. I was fifteen when I initially encountered this poem, in whatever edition of The Witches Almanac I was reading. Since I quickly and easily memorized it, Alone's haunting lines often spring to mind.


Alone, by Edgar Allan Poe


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