The Origins of a Poet: An Explication of “Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe

Writers and poets have maintained for ages an extremely well-documented reputation for having self-destructive habits and dismal personal lives. Bleak biographies punctuated by loss, misfortune, failure, abuse, madness, and death make up the collective subplot of the most celebrated poems and narratives ever written. The writers themselves are celebrated for creating beauty from devastation—so much so that they become mythologized as the tragic heroes of their own stories. Such is the case with Edgar Allan Poe, who stands out among the throng as the man who popularized sorrow itself. Much of his poetry is a personal reflection of his struggle through life as a tortured artist. His poem, “Alone,” however, speaks on a universal level that transcends mere subjective expression. It reads like an anthem for the creatives, who were doomed from the start, for the artists plagued by catastrophe, for the tragic heroes.

The opening lines of “Alone” are descriptive of the narrator’s emotionally isolated childhood: “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—” (1-4). The direct translation is simple: since birth, the narrator has been different from other children. He sees the world differently, a consequence of which being the inability to see it the way others do. This discrepancy in perspectives is both a gift and an affliction. The latter refers to the social and developmental hang-ups of being unable to connect with others when one person seems no different from the next and yet the narrator is separate from them all. This separation is a gift in that the narrator does not derive his passions from a “common spring.” His talents and interests are unique and, more importantly, they exist.

The narrator’s mere mention of his passions, and so early on, indicates that the tone of this poem isn’t as doleful as one might expect from Poe. In fact, as it continues, it could even be interpreted as triumphant: “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—” (5-8). Similar to the first four lines, the narrator denotes what sets him apart from his peers. He is burdened by sorrows perhaps unfamiliar to most children, suggesting that the narrator either has an exceptionally difficult life or that he simply is not moved to sadness by the same things that most children are during normal stages of development. The triumph in this is that, though he is a child, he is not incapacitated by petty problems. If his sorrow is derived from tumultuous home life, the artist’s reception of this is also positive: a volatile upbringing is a hotbed of creative resources.

He is similarly unaffected by the sources of joy shared by the others. But that is not to say that he does not feel joy, for he does love. The narrator’s persistent allusions to what he loves and values, though these things may be unique to what a typical child loves and values, are in conflict with the general darkness of the poem. As a result, words like “passion” and “love” (as well as “sun,” “gold,” “cloud,” and “heaven,” later on) provide a startling contrast to their surroundings. Were the poem longer, perhaps a heavier usage of the more foreboding words and phrases would succeed in drowning out those with positive associations. However, the brevity of the poem makes the aforementioned words impossible to ignore, pointing out plainly that the narrator is not void of enthusiasm. If anything it is just the opposite: the narrator, even as a youth, retains ownership of what he cares about despite the number of social complications being stacked against him due to these idiosyncrasies.

The narrator moves to continue but first reminds the reader that this is still a recollection from childhood. His emphasis on the fact that he was a child when he spied the impending demon likens the poem to an origin story. Just like Batman, Spiderman, and Edgar Allan Poe, the narrator is subjected to loneliness from a very early age. He may not literally be an orphan like the three superheroes mentioned, but it is safe to say that his peers have orphaned him. While it may be presumptuous to assume that the narrator is an artist, his story certainly does align with the generally downcast parables of everyone’s favorite visionaries. Rejected and trod upon, he takes solace in what he “loves alone,” and then one day:

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 lightening 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—

This passage is not an exercise in subtlety. It resounds with drama—linguistic and ecological. It is not by coincidence that the narrator sees this demon, the sky opens up and presents it to him. This is evidence of a higher power communicating with the narrator to relate an important message: he is not destined for the vast, blue heaven in which others are sent to live their simple, pretty lives. The narrator is not simple. His life isn’t pretty and it probably never will be. Much like Poe himself, the narrator of “Alone” is cursed by his own ambition. Despite achieving the status of social outcasts right out of the gate, the narrator does not sacrifice his own unique sources of joy and for that he is doomed to carry on alone. Perhaps, his destiny is to create beauty from devastation or to simply wither away while trying. In any case he pursues his passions relentlessly, just as his demons pursue him.