Saturday, February 7, 2009

Alone.



It seems as though the world is anxiously waiting for spring.
But I'm not quite ready to shed my layers and break down my walls of cozy quietness. 
So as New York is dawning on its first days of warm weather, I'll be biding my time in the depths of my blankets. 
While I was out with my parents today, I found this pocket-sized book of Edgar Allan Poe's poetry. 


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 lov'd-I loved alone-
Then- in my childhood-in the dawn
Of a most stormy life was drawn
From ev'ry 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 pass'd me flying by-
From the thunder, and the storm-
And the cloud that took form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view-


"Alone" by Edgar Allan Poe
photos from Ffffound.

6 comments:

cuteseas said...

i'm not ready for the warmth yet too

Sandra said...

stunning

Mila said...

Such a gorgeous post! <3
I fell in love with it....deeply.

Mila
<3

thedrifterandthegypsy said...

gosh this post is so haunting and mysterious. love it so much. i especially love the first few photos.
xoxo,
Micaela

Heart in a cage said...

A beautiful post. Like the drifter and the gypsy said: It has someting mysterious which I love.

agnes said...

how beautiful it is! i'm committed to this post :)