“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.”