Ainda mais poesia

Já que o assunto é poesia,
republico aqui o que postei lá no meu blog.
Um dos meus poemas favoritos de todos os tempos.
E um dos que mais me identifico.
Viva o mestre Allan Poe, de Boston!

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 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.

E. A. Poe