“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.”

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