‘Alone’ by Edgar Allan Poe

The poem presented in this post is unlikely to chase your winter blues, to be honest, but it’s an excellent one! Penned by Edgar Allan Poe, ‘Alone’ is a deeply personal and intimate reflection on what is now commonly described as chronic depression. This mental health condition was the troubled poet’s lifelong companion, as attested to by so many of his works.

In the first eight lines the poet writes about his lifelong feeling of being different from others, somehow unable to engage with the world around him in the expected and conventional ways. (I can’t resist adding the word ‘neurotypical’ here.) The three key words – passions, sorrow, joy – speak of an intense emotional life and varied interests, but such that others couldn’t relate to. Due to that, he ended up living in the world of his own making, living – and loving – according to his own terms. 

There is an inherent duality here, though: Poe’s unconventional interaction with the world may have led him to shun other people’s company (and vice versa), but it also made his perspective special and unique; his social isolation very likely contributed to his depression, but it was also what gave him the freedom and autonomy necessary for creative expression. Without it, he wouldn’t have been the man and the writer that he was.

(Just to add that it may be worthwhile to explore the classical Greek sense of the word ‘demon’, since Poe may have alluded to that, rather than the later Christian notion of a demon as a malevolent spirit. But I’ll leave that as a homework assignment for you.)

On to the poem now! Please share your thoughts and interpretations in the comments section at the bottom of the page.

---

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 lov’d 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 the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—

---

RECOMMENDED LINKS

A Short Analysis of Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘Alone’

‘Alone’ – a verse-by-verse analysis

Demon – a Wikipedia entry

Depression and language: analysing Edgar Allan Poe’s writings to solve the mystery of his death

---

NOTES

If you wish to receive new content from the Grammaticus blog in your inbox, please enter your email address in the box below. You can also subscribe to my free monthly Newsletter.

To support my work, you can send me a donation via PayPal. It would be greatly appreciated!

---

COVER PHOTO CREDIT

Tomas Robertson via Unsplash