Monday, December 2, 2013


...I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
At 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 the childhood, in the dawn
Of a more stormy life was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery that 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
As a demon in my view.

That's my favorite poem EVER, except for maybe "The Raven". Edgar Allan Poe rocks.

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