Saturday, July 7, 2007
ALONE
by Edgar Allan PoeFrom 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.
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This poem sounds really nice.
Though I don't really make full sense of it. Bits here and there.
Abstract words are really nice, coz they make you think a lot and there are really no right or wrong answers. You just interpret it in whatever way you think it's true.
Looking for images to work on my new blog layout. I'm getting sick of this layout. And all along, I've never have a liking of pre-made layouts. HAHA.
My mind's unweaving/ 3:02 PM
