DOUBTFUL POEMS.

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 —

Thou — 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 roll'd

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.