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Alone
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
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What Troubled Poe's Raven
Could Poe walk again to-morrow, heavy with dyspeptic sorrow,
While the darkness seemed to borrow darkness from the night before,
From the hollow gloom abysmal, floating downward, grimly
dismal,
Like a pagan curse baptismal from the bust above the door,
He would hear the Raven croaking from the dusk above the
door,
"Never, never, nevermore!"
And, too angry to be civil, "Raven," Poe would cry "or
devil,
Tell me why you will persist in haunting Death's Plutonian
shore?"
Then would croak the Raven gladly, "I will tell you why so
sadly,
I so mournfully and madly, haunt you, taunt you, o'er and
o'er-
Why eternally I haunt you, daunt you, taunt you, o'er
and o'er,
Only this, and nothing more.
"Forty-eight long years I've pondered, forty-eight long years
I've wondered,
How a poet ever blundered into a mistake so sore.
How could lamp-light from your table ever in the world be
able,
From below, to throw my sable shadow 'streaming on the
floor,'
When I perched up here on Pallas, high above your chamber
door?
Tell me that-if nothing more!"
Then, like some wan, weeping willow, Poe would bend above
his pillow,
Seeking surcease in the billow where mad recollections
drown,
And in tearful tones replying, he would groan "There's no
denying
Either I was blindly lying, or the world was upside down-
Say, by Joe!-it was just midnight-so the world was upside
down-
Aye, the world was upside down!"
John Bennett
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
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What Troubled Poe's Raven
Could Poe walk again to-morrow, heavy with dyspeptic sorrow,
While the darkness seemed to borrow darkness from the night before,
From the hollow gloom abysmal, floating downward, grimly
dismal,
Like a pagan curse baptismal from the bust above the door,
He would hear the Raven croaking from the dusk above the
door,
"Never, never, nevermore!"
And, too angry to be civil, "Raven," Poe would cry "or
devil,
Tell me why you will persist in haunting Death's Plutonian
shore?"
Then would croak the Raven gladly, "I will tell you why so
sadly,
I so mournfully and madly, haunt you, taunt you, o'er and
o'er-
Why eternally I haunt you, daunt you, taunt you, o'er
and o'er,
Only this, and nothing more.
"Forty-eight long years I've pondered, forty-eight long years
I've wondered,
How a poet ever blundered into a mistake so sore.
How could lamp-light from your table ever in the world be
able,
From below, to throw my sable shadow 'streaming on the
floor,'
When I perched up here on Pallas, high above your chamber
door?
Tell me that-if nothing more!"
Then, like some wan, weeping willow, Poe would bend above
his pillow,
Seeking surcease in the billow where mad recollections
drown,
And in tearful tones replying, he would groan "There's no
denying
Either I was blindly lying, or the world was upside down-
Say, by Joe!-it was just midnight-so the world was upside
down-
Aye, the world was upside down!"
John Bennett
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