(28 August 1749 – 22 March 1832 / Frankfurt am Main)

The Misanthrope

AT first awhile sits he,

With calm, unruffled brow;
His features then I see,
Distorted hideously,--

An owl's they might be now.

What is it, askest thou?
Is't love, or is't ennui?

'Tis both at once, I vow.

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