Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis Poems

  • 101.  
    So we forget? The streets bloom gay
    With festive garments, many hued; And man and maid laugh down the way
  • 102.  
    I nearly fell fair in my tracks.
    I'm trudgin' homeward with my axe When I come on her suddenly.
  • 103.  
    'I should go mad,' he said, 'in such a place!
    The lack of company, the loneliness! Nothing but trees to stare you in the face;
  • 104.  
    Nay, Mr Speaker, let the ideal stay,
    The picture that voters have in mind Of Solons in debate far leagues away
  • 105.  
    Singing morning has begun.
    Where the wooded ranges run To far summits, there the snow
  • 106.  
    A word out of season
    Of vapid unreason May seem mere political twaddle at best;
  • 107.  
    In the neolithic age of our Australia, long ago,
    There dwelt a wise old chieftain, as you probably don't know; His royal tastes and habits I won't venture to describe,
  • 108.  
    Why, 'ow's she goin', Bill, ole sport?
    I thort I knoo your dile! My oath! You look the proper sort!
  • 109.  
    Look at 'em! Toffs with their big cigars,
    Drivin' along in their motor cars. Nothin' at all like the olden days
  • 110.  
    'A woman's work is never done,'
    Said she. 'From dawn to setting of the sun,'
  • 111.  
    You are much too big to dandle,
    And I will not leave the candle. Go to sleep.
  • 112.  
    (I'm not trying to make this thing rhyme
    But, at the same time, A little interlude like this
  • 113.  
    I've lived a rather careless life,
    And many a fault have I; But I'd have you not stress the strife
  • 114.  
    Six o'clock. From the railway yard
    The engine toots; careering hard, A milk-cart rattles by and stops;
  • 115.  
    My dear, I'm awful shorry
    'Bout gettin' home sho late. I orra been in hoursh ago;
  • 116.  
    Mr Blenkinsop and I
    Are much concerned to learn That, somewhere in the further sky,
  • 117.  
    Once on this historic site
    Wild men of a dusky shade, In defiance of all right,
  • 118.  
    Look 'ere. I'll bet a 'arf-a-crown
    To anythink you like to name (said Bushy Bill), If country fellers went to town,
  • 119.  
    What do they dream about standing there
    In the windows facing the street? Eyes transfixed in a strange, far stare,
  • 120.  
    A civic lady, peerly proud
    Of excellences that here crowd About her trim, well-ordered streets:
  • 121.  
    When artists wore a flowing mane,
    Then, in a sentimental vein, With pastorals they lured the eye,
  • 122.  
    Now comes to an end all our dolorous drifting;
    Clouds pass away and depression is lifting. Because we were wise in our planning and sought
  • 123.  
    Jist to intraj'uice me cobber, an 'is name is Ginger Mick
    A rorty boy, a naughty boy, wiv rude impressions thick In 'is casu'l conversation, an' the wicked sort o' face
  • 124.  
    I sing of the hat, of the human lid,
    The cadev, the tile, or whatever you please, The thing that we wear - or our fathers did
  • 125.  
    You're playing it by ear, boy! Eyes upon the score!' Miss Trapp, the music teacher, very prim and staid,
  • 126.  
    I said goodbye to the bees last Friday week,
    To blooms, and to things like these, for Winter bleak Was shouting loud from the hills, and flinging high
  • 127.  
    Listen, Elaine. Tho' I'm not mad on racing,
    I like a little flutter now and then; But I maintain you would not be disgracing
  • 128.  
    'I got no time fer wasters, lad,' sez 'e,
    'Give me a man wiv grit,' sez Uncle Jim. 'E bores 'is cute ole eyes right into me,
  • 129.  
    His Honor walked into the shop
    For of shopping his Honor was fond. Did she blush? Did her eyes indicate shy surprise
  • 130.  
    Where the little river gleaming
    Thro' its shadows green and cool Broadens to the quiet dreaming
  • 131.  
    'Unless you 'ide that axe,' she sez, ''E'll 'urt 'imself reel bad.
    An' after all - Now, Bill, don't cry! - that trouble that I've 'ad, Wiv 'im thro' croop an' whoopin' corf, 'e goes an' cuts 'imself!
  • 132.  
    Oh, loyal Orange breth-er-en.
    I pray you act as Christlan men, And, should your spleen arise, count ten
  • 133.  
    Dolefully and drearily
    Come I with the spring; Wearily and cerily
  • 134.  
    I t'inkin' da war now go for stop
    Between Black Sammo, da slush, An' Nicko, da boss of da fry-fish shop.
  • 135.  
    She danced thro' life as light as thistledown,
    The grace of Columbine, charm of Pierette, These, and that blithesome quality of thistledown,
  • 136.  
    'This is the life!' said Dusty Dan
    'This is the life to hand a man! My happy way is strewn with flowers;
  • 137.  
    Now, children, in this Lesson Two,
    Briefly we'll make some mention Of party, just in case that you
  • 138.  
    Brothers; even those of you who are already in the sear and yellow leaf, and full of years and iniquity,
    Sometimes, I doubt not, let your thoughts go back to those days of antiquity When mother tucked you into your little bed.
  • 139.  
    First I tried a Dry Martini;
    But found not one teeny-weeny Semblance of a kick in any kind of this.
  • 140.  
    How many have you broken up till now?
    I know that yesterday you made a vow, And most solemnly 'twas spoken;
  • 141.  
    Nobody knew why it should be so;
    Nobody knew or wanted to know. It might have been checked had but someone dared
  • 142.  
    Yarrawonga by herself
    Lived too long upon a shelf She a stolid farmer's wife.
  • 143.  
    By gar! I tell-a you, t'ings don't stop
    Since da war he come wit' a rush, When Nicko, da boss at da fry-fish shop,
  • 144.  
    Oh, he was old and he was spare;
    His bushy whiskers and his hair Were all fussed up and very grey
  • 145.  
    When muddled mentors take the stage
    To gird against our erring, They simulate an awful rage,
  • 146.  
    Sing me to sleep when I go West;
    But sing you, soft and low, No song from the olden masters'
  • 147.  
    Smith is a very stupid man;
    He lives next door to me; He has no settled scheme or plan
  • 148.  
    There ain't enough of strikes an' things,
    There ain't enough of strife, There ain't enough dislikes an' things
  • 149.  
    Mr Bodge, the banker, was a power in the land;
    His city bank had granted him an autocratic hand; For our town was most remote from commerce centres then,
  • 150.  
    At Slumberton-on-Slow,
    When the rustics gather round To quaff their ale, they hear a tale
Total 714 poems written by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

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The dead are in their silent graves,
And the dew is cold above,
And the living weep and sigh,
Over dust that once was love.
Once I only wept the dead,
But now the living cause my pain:
How couldst thou steal me from my tears,
To leave me to my tears again?

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