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. 1767-9.
Poems are below...
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem THE MISANTHROPE here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.