profilePage

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

�ݺ�ߣ

Henrique Souza