'twas moontide of summer and mid-time of the night:
And stars, in their orbits shone palem through the light
Of the brighter, cold moon, lightning in the sky
Star beams on the waves passed me flying by
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
Form 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.
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
Of a demon in my view
When the rest of Heaven was blue
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystrey which binds me still
From the torrent, or the mountain
From the red cliff of the mountain
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold
Flying by
Flying by
Alone
