Read the works of Edgar Allan Poe.
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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 pass'd 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. -

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• edgar allan poe
• gothic
• american literature
• poetry