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 Could not awaken And all I loved, I loved alone. With No one to guide me on my way home. Now, 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, binds me still From the torrent, or the fountain From the red cliff to the hill From the sun that round me rolled, In its autumn tint of gold, To the lightning in the sky, As it passed me by And all I loved, I loved alone. With No light to guide me on the way home. Now, Then in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life was drawn From every depth of good and ill This mystery it binds me still