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domingo, 28 de fevereiro de 2016

“Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe


Black and Violet, by Wassily Kandinsky























From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were - 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 -

Source: American Poetry: The Nineteenth Century (1993)

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