“Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat,
With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing,
Or where the beetle winds
His small but sullen horn,
As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path,
Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum.”

—  William Collins

Source: Ode to Evening (1747) http://www.netpoets.com/classic/poems/017002.htm, line 9.

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William Collins 19
English poet, born 1721 1721–1759

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