Dust
(I'm not trying to make this thing rhyme
But, at the same time,
A little interlude like this
Is not amiss).
We interviewed a Mayor and asked gently, 'Dost
Think, my lord, that thy great city is a pleasant place wherein to dwell? For, if
not, why not?' And he answered, 'Dust!'
Just,
'Dust!'
He seemed perturbed. Something was on his mind. He could not talk. He could not
say one word excepting
Just
'Dust!'
We fear that the interview was a bit of a frost. We wanted to ask him all sort of
things about markets, and the letting of the Town Hall, and jay-walking
regulations; but all he would answer was just
'DUST!!!'
And when outside into the street we went
We knew just
What he meant.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Asking Too Much
You can't expect it! Goodness me!
T'would be a dreadful policy!
What sort of Ministerial dunce
Would try to do two things at once?
How can they deal with city needs,
While Bungalong or Rooville pleads,
For culverts, and Wow-wow grows sick
Through want of bridges o'er its 'crick?'
The logic of the thing's so plain:
To legislate on tram and train
Can't dig a single, blighted spud
Or help one milker chew her cud.
Then what's the use? One might say more:
What are our legislators for?
Such vaunted measures as Defence
Won't build a single dog-leg fence.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Fowl
A noble lesson this should teach,
Dear children unto you.
If other people's goods you reach,
Of rectitude 'twill be a breach,
Or parsons will your virtues preach,
According to the point of view,
Or to the kind of folks you 'do'.
You steal a chicken off a fence
With wrath the pious shake,
Although you say with eloquence
The owner used it ill, and hence
You kindly sought to recompense
The bird for troubles past, and make
It happier, for Heaven's sake.
But if you are a statesman grand,
And ships and armies raise,
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Deadly Dummy
'It's the dummy wot done it,' said Bleary Bill.
'As a child I was out o' luck.
A kid in me pram, that's wot I am
When they gimme the thing to suck.
An' I took to it good, for I like the taste;
With never a thought of a life laid waste.
Then I took to nippin' upon the sly,
Or avin' a suck with a friend,
Tho' a neighbourin' kid warned me, 'e did,
It would get me, sure, in the end.
An' git me it did, as you see today.
In a most insidius an' 'orrible way.
I know as me 'abits is not the best.
An' I know as the beer's a curse;
But don't blame me, for me choice weren't free,
An' the blame of it's all on nurse.
So, please, yer Honor, don't make it 'ot,
An' I'll swear off dummies right on the spot.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Jack
Since Stanley felt the icy blast
Jack leads the Opposition.
A mild, scholastic man to cast
For such a tough position.
Fit for some rude iconoclast
Or thick-skinned politician.
His academic mind e'er seeks
Direct appeals to reason;
He thinks a deal before he speaks,
And ever speaks in season.
Quibbling, to him, with folly reeks,
And sophistry is treason.
All sentiment he safely locks
Within; and jokes unnerve him;
No soap or any other box
As pedestal would serve him.
He'd analyse a paradox;
And jibes can never swerve him.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Black Saturday
They say a touch of spring is in the air;
They say the wattle trees with bloom are gay;
They say each garden now begins to wear
(Not that I care)
A festal garb that waxes day by day
In loneliness. They tell, too, of blue skies
Aglow with hope . . . I laugh them all to scorn,
And gaze upon these things with listless eyes
That see nought but a vista most forlorn.
They say that bird songs come now with a rush
Of rarest melody; the ambient air
Thrills to the voice of blackbird and of thrush
(I answer 'Tush!
Let 'em go sing their heads off. I don't care.')
They say a kindly sun beams o'er the earth.
They say - Bah! Who pays heed to what they say?
Life is a sham; a mockery is mirth;
I'm making out my income tax today.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Golden Silence
A word out of season
Of vapid unreason
May seem mere political twaddle at best;
But this thing needs abatement
If, with each wild statement
It mean's that a cool quarter million's gone West.
What millions are pouring
While, raving and roaring,
Not only John Lang, but a dozen or more
Political brothers
Outshouting the others
With rhetoric costly are taking the floor?
In mood apathetic
We hear energetic
But futile economists voicing their views;
And little attention
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Dusky Wood-Swallow
Surely must you know me,
Friendly and content;
All my actions show me
Freely confident;
With my band of toilers,
When the blue days smile:
Little Jacky Martin
Come to stay a while.
Every town and village
Knows me, every farm.
Mine no wish to pillage,
Mine no will to harm;
Busy in the orchard,
My pest-destroying band:
Little Jacky Martin
Come to lend a hand.
Suddenly appearing
In far forest land
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Birthday Honours
My natal day was yesterday;
And so I said to Fate,
'What gifts bring you, by one, by two,
To ease my parlous state?'
'I proffer blindly,' Fate replied,
From chance-found joys and ills.
For you, the 'flu; and this beside,
A sheaf of monthly bills.'
My natal day was yesterday;
And so I said to Chance,
'What gifts bring you, by one, by two,
My fortunes to enhance?'
Said Chance, 'I bring no obvious thing.
Unguessed escape bring I
From dangers rife alway in life
That closely pass you by.'
My natal day was yesterday;
And so I said to Life,
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Mercenary View
I knew a poor remittance man,
A decent chap, but funny,
In days when my ideas began
To be controlled by money
He wore a swank, patrician air;
But, oh, his life was filled with care,
For he had seldom cash to spare;
His mien was far from sunny.
I fear I was a snobbish youth
Who led a prig's existence.
I snubbed the chap, to tell the truth,
And kept him at a distance.
His clothes, well cut, were often worn
Threadbare. Tho' he was gently born
His friendship I refused with scorn
Despite his soft insistence.
But now the whirligig of time
Sees fit to elevate him.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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