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—
One of the images I get instantly from reading the poem "alone" by
Edgar Allan Poe is a person all by themselves sitting down staring at families pass with smiles on their faces wile he is suffering imagining him being carried on the shoulders of his father or holding the hand of the mother.
It reminds me a little bit of my father I'm very grateful that both of my parents are alive and healthy, but i never had a really good relationship with my father i just see him 3 or 4 times a year so it reminded me of how hard it was to grow up without having him by my side, instead looking at him with his other children.
