Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place, (Portentous sight) the owlet Atheism, sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon, drops his blue-fringed lids, and holds them close, and hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven, cries out, ''Where is it'' (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place, (Portentous sight) the owlet Atheism, sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon, drops his blue-fringed lids, and holds them close, and hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven, cries out, ''Where is it''

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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