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 mysteries which binds me still
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Author:
Lewis O’Carroll (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 3rd, 2026 08:25
- Category: Sad
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: A.N., sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
This is a marvelous write of perceived differences in self and the difficulty with such through life. Yet we are all different some more than others and sadness could well be joy not to be like another. A fave my friend
lmfao, people only fave my reposts of Edgar Allan Poe poems, this one perfectly described my own childhood upbringing so i felt a connection to Edgar Allan Poe, you\\\'re right, sir, in the billions of people on earth no two people are exactly alike, there are similarities and differences, some more than others like u said, and people can develop certain pesonality traits because they were around people with those traits and their company shaped those traits into them, like one on my family has empathy she got from a bond with her parent and another family member does not possess empathy at all since this member\\\'s family never had any empathy...thanks for your thoughts and feedback, appreciated as always!
You are most welcome my friend
Well judging from your profile picture and the title of this poem it seems like you like to be free to write whatever you please!
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