A gentle face, that mark'd my heart profound-
should hands of mine caress your bony cheek;
A regal visage I would like have crowned,
And I'd traverse your frail and wight physique-
Professed be, a spirit free has inquiry-
And notably- for who seek wit- to be so fit,
Without a quit- abscond and lead, those deities feed-
On us with greed- to out your mind and you will find-
The heaviness- in breath- was heaviness- from my heart-
and I grew chilled, by weight of feeling-
the angry repulse- for mankind, stirring!
Ask wherefore am I - a misanthrope, once more.