Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis Poems

  • 301.  
    Ar, these is 'appy days! An' 'ow they've flown
    Flown like the smoke of some inchanted fag; Since dear Doreen, the sweetest tart I've known,
  • 302.  
    Not for vague honors, not for treacherous power
    He lived and toiled thro' this, his earthy span; But to uphold and cultivate the dower,
  • 303.  
    I'm the friendliest of them all,
    When winter comes; Daily at your door I call
  • 304.  
    Walk up! Walk up to the Bureaucratic Fair!
    All the tasters and the testers and the tallymen are there. All the freaks and other fancies of the mighty tax machine.
  • 305.  
    Bright young thing: Thou on the beaches
    Life is gay and pleasure laden All in vain the law beseeches
  • 306.  
    That's him!! The authentic, identical beast!
    The Unionist tiger, full brother to 'Sosh'! I know by the prowl of him.
  • 307.  
    Thunder? Why, no. Some static, may have been
    A far, faint rumble and a glimmering light. This, and no more, John, have we heard and seen,
  • 308.  
    The conq'rin' 'ero! Me? Yes, I don't think.
    This mornin' when I catch the train fer 'ome, It's far more like a walloped pup I slink
  • 309.  
    Aw, chuck the mail bags over there,
    It's great to have 'em brought by air; But, now they're here, just sling 'em round,
  • 310.  
    Though our eye in recent seasons
    Has a wild and glassy glare, And we fail to offer reasons
  • 311.  
    'Before the war,' she sighs. 'Before the war.'
    Then blinks 'er eyes, an' tries to work a smile. 'Ole scenes,' she sez, 'don't look the same no more.
  • 312.  
    Side by side near the road they stand
    Like grave old men grown wise with years, Veterans twain in this forest land,
  • 313.  
    Oh, what a pleasant game is life
    When we are bravely batting And glorying in skill and strife.
  • 314.  
    We'd harbored them on hovels, and in dens,
    Altho' in price they counted less than cattle, Had they not still the right, that ws all men's,
  • 315.  
    There's a moral in this: tho' I own that the preaching
    Of moral and maxim in season and out Grows stale; yet these days of depressions far-reaching
  • 316.  
    The sun burns hotly thro' the gums
    As down the road old Rogan comes The hatter from the lonely hut
  • 317.  
    'Ah, wot's the use?' she sez. 'Lea' me alone!
    Why can't I go to 'ell in my own way? I never arst you 'ere to mag an' moan.
  • 318.  
    Brothers, what are we to think
    When we muse upon strong drink? Is it bad or is it good?
  • 319.  
    Behold, I built a fowlhouse in my yard!
    Two months agone the great work was begun, And ev'ry eventide I labored hard,
  • 320.  
    What's the use?
    Give it best; Cut her loose;
  • 321.  
    By inlet and islet and wide river reaches,
    By lake and lagoon I'm at home, Yet oft' the far forests of blue-gum and beeches
  • 322.  
    Rugged men and tough men these,
    Men of the lonely ways, Hard and sturdy as their trees
  • 323.  
    Galloping, galloping, galloping horses
    Weave thro' our dreaming in burgeoning Spring; There's sun in our hearts and there's sun on the courses,
  • 324.  
    When I look into the looking glass
    I'm always sure to see - No matter how I dodge about -
  • 325.  
    Why, certainly. Let's listen to the cricket.
    Oh, I'm quite keen. Test match, I understand. At... What's that? Oh, Australia's at the wicket.
  • 326.  
    Sir, - I try to do my duty as a patriotic man
    With sane views about the science of gastronomy; And I'd ask the promulgators of each food consuming plan
  • 327.  
    What have we missed? Now he returns no more
    We are left with but our blindness to deplore, But, concentrating on his spats instead,
  • 328.  
    Oh, for that kindly copper
    I knew long years ago, A stalwart man and proper,
  • 329.  
    I often pause to contemplate
    The sadly barren mental state Of persons whom it is my fate
  • 330.  
    'If I'd 'a' played me Jack on that there Ten'
    Sez Peter Begg, 'I might 'a' made the lot.' ''Ow could yeh?' barks ole Poole. ''Ow could yeh, when
  • 331.  
    Home's best (she said), and the tale
    Of the hungering soil and the flail Of the sun and the shuddering threat
  • 332.  
    These be the fruits, O man who would out-loom
    The proudest Caesar of Rome's proudest story, When legion after legion marched to doom
  • 333.  
    On one fine but fatal morning in the early Eocene,
    Lo, a brawny Bloke set out to dig a hole: First of men to put a puncture in the tertiary green
  • 334.  
    Once a little sugar ant made up his mind to roam-
    To fare away far away, far away from home. He had eaten all his breakfast, and he had his ma's consent
  • 335.  
    Betty Yack, of Mittyack, charming was and young;
    But Betty Yack of Mittyack, had a bitter tongue. And she married her one Otto who henceforth seemed doomed for life,
  • 336.  
    'Er name's Doreenâ?¦Well spare me bloomin' days!
    You could er knocked me down wiv 'arf a brick! Yes, me, that kids meself I know their ways,
  • 337.  
    Yes, it's tryin', Mrs Gudgits. Very tryin', as you say.
    To 'ave a 'usban' on yer 'an's not only night but day. An' so I can't go out with you, much as I wisht I could;
  • 338.  
    Have you heard the inscrutable mutable Alf,
    The mannerly man with the silvery tongue? Ever loquacious,
  • 339.  
    Anzac! And war's grim storm . . .
    The scream of a pass'ng shell Torn earth, and - a quiet form . . .
  • 340.  
    Ses Cullen, the cockie, he ses to me:
    'Now, I puts it to you in this way: If a feller....(Woah, Ginger! Come over, yeh cow!)....
  • 341.  
    Sou' sou' east, with the course set fair
    Heave ho, me hearties! On the Geelong road we're cruisin' there
  • 342.  
    The cattle-lands of Corryong,
    The maiden of the snows (Where silver streams the winter long
  • 343.  
    There is women, yer Worship, of various kinds:
    An' some of 'em's fluffy a' foolish, An' some is sispicious an' mean in their minds,
  • 344.  
    The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat;
    Crool Forchin's dirty left 'as smote me soul; An' all them joys o' life I 'eld so sweet
  • 345.  
    Dear friends, I'm Deakin....
    No; no mistake, You're wide awake.
  • 346.  
    Because to him the wise gods gave
    Rare gifts, to lesser folk denied, He might have thriven, Mammon's slave,
  • 347.  
    'Give us gardens!' said the artist,
    'Blatant brick and soulless stone, Never built a noble city.
  • 348.  
    Hey, there! Hoop-la! the circus is in town!
    Have you seen the elephant? Have you seen the clown? Have you seen the dappled horse gallop round the ring?
  • 349.  
    Five nights agone I lay at rest
    On my suburban couch. My trousers on the bedpost hung,
  • 350.  
    So ends a life, lived to the full alway,
    Thro' peace, thro' war, thro' honored peace again, From youth unto the closing of his day
Total 714 poems written by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

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Thomas Hood Poem
The Forsaken
 by Thomas Hood

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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