Not As Others Were

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.