“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.”
-Edgar Allan Poe, “Alone”

Strange…this poem that is stuck in my head, tonight, is strangely absent from my Complete Tales and Poems of Poe. The other night, Lenore graduated to full, adult mice. I was worried that she would be unable to get one down…so she laughed at my doubt by eating two. Oh…they grow up so fast! Before I know it, it’ll be rats and rabbits and then the pitter patter of little slithers can’t be far behind.

“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 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.”
-Edgar Allan Poe, “Alone”

-a postcard stuck to my wall