"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. "