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''
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''
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories