And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
'Edgar Allen Poe'
Currawongs are nasty birds that viciously prey on smaller birds, and the sight of this baby one through the window reminded me of the 1845 poem.
