Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

[C. J. Dennis] (7 September 1876 - 22 June 1938 / Auburn, South Australia)

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis Poems

121. Bones, A.B. Is Reminded 8/28/2012
122. 'Bosses Don'T Seem Right' - A Christmas Monologue 8/29/2012
123. Bottle-O Benny 8/29/2012
124. Bountiful Rain 8/30/2012
125. Breathing-Time 9/4/2012
126. Bridles For Butterflies 8/29/2012
127. Bright 8/30/2012
128. Brightness Breaches And The Beak 8/28/2012
129. Brothers O' Mine 9/6/2012
130. Brown's Tram 9/5/2012
131. Bushmen 8/31/2012
132. 'But' 8/30/2012
133. Cackle 9/5/2012
134. Caesar Redivivus 8/29/2012
135. Call For Contributions 9/1/2012
136. Camperdown 8/30/2012
137. Care Free Bloke's Cigar 8/30/2012
138. Carnival Time 8/30/2012
139. Cataclysm 8/31/2012
140. Charity 9/5/2012
141. Cheek 9/5/2012
142. Cherchez La Femme 8/31/2012
143. Cherry 8/29/2012
144. Christmas Scene 8/29/2012
145. City Of Dreams 8/29/2012
146. Cobbers And Quids 8/31/2012
147. Colac 8/30/2012
148. Come Ye Home 8/29/2012
149. Conducted Tour 8/29/2012
150. Confidential Canberra 8/28/2012
151. Consummation 8/31/2012
152. Convalescence 8/30/2012
153. Cooked 9/5/2012
154. Coquette 8/29/2012
155. Corryong 8/29/2012
156. Cosmic Comic Relief 8/30/2012
157. Country Doctors 8/29/2012
158. Country Pubs 8/30/2012
159. Country Roads ~ Pretty Sally 8/31/2012
160. Country Roads ~ The New Chum Road 8/31/2012
Best Poem of Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

Hist!

Hist! . . . . . . Hark!
The night is very dark,
And we've to go a mile or so
Across the Possum Park.

Step . . . . . . light,
Keeping to the right;
If we delay, and lose our way,
We'll be out half the night.
The clouds are low and gloomy. Oh!
It's just begun to mist!
We haven't any overcoats
And - Hist! . . . . . . Hist!

(Mo . . . . . . poke!)
Who was that that spoke?
This is not a fitting spot
To make a silly joke.

Dear . . . . . . me!
A mopoke in a tree!
It jarred me so, I didn't know
Whatever it could be.
But come along;...

Read the full of Hist!

Old Farmer Jack

Old farmer Jack gazed on his wheat,
And feared the frost would nip it.
Said he, "it's nearly seven feet -
I must begin to strip 'it.

He stripped it with a stripper and
He bagged it with a bagger;
The bags were all so lumpy that
They made the bumper stagger.

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