Given at today is Hallowe’en, I wanted to share with Bibliophilopolis readers a poem (and not the one you think) by Edgar Allan Poe that I just learned of this week via Paula Cappa’s blog. A really powerful – and I’m sure autobiographical – work.
Alone by Edgar Allan Poe
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:
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)
Of a demon in my view.
On a related note, when dressing for work today, I wore a t-shirt under my orange polo shirt. It’s my gray Edgar Allan Poe shirt! I. Can’t remember exactly where or when I got it, but on the gray background it has some black text in the outline of a bird. Okay, a raven. If I were photogenic, I’d snap a selfie for you, but instead of that, I’ll just say it looks like this:
Happy Hallowe’en Everyone!