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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 10, Issue 5 (August 1, 1935)
“Nevermore!”
“Nevermore!”
The raven's heart is as black as his coat. Sin is writ on him from the Satanic squint of his white-rimmed eye
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to the evil quirt of his Mephistophelian tail. His glance is ribald and his friendship is an insult. His rusty black feathers are the vestments of doom.
“A strolling haystack covered with tarpaulin.”
Oh bird of Satan
Tipped from—well,
A place whose name might rhyme
with “tell,”
You make me feel a snowy saint,
Although, full well, I know I ain't.