Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

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

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis Poems

121. The Exiles 8/30/2012
122. The Old White Horse 8/30/2012
123. The Dove Has A Word 8/30/2012
124. Leg Theory 8/30/2012
125. The Battler 8/30/2012
126. The Wicket Cricket Critic 8/30/2012
127. The Indian Myna 8/30/2012
128. The Goldfinch 8/30/2012
129. The Magpie Lark 8/30/2012
130. 'The Yellow Tailed Thornbill' 8/30/2012
131. The Farmer's Lament 8/30/2012
132. Our Rampant Coat-Of-Arms 8/30/2012
133. The Old Brass Rail 8/30/2012
134. The League Of Youth 8/30/2012
135. The Kindly Copper 8/30/2012
136. The Kick 8/30/2012
137. There's A Good Time Coming 8/30/2012
138. This Momentous Mummery 8/30/2012
139. Kilts, Ye Ken 8/30/2012
140. The Grey Fantail 8/30/2012
141. Lorne 8/30/2012
142. Ignoramus 8/30/2012
143. Obadiah Bell 8/30/2012
144. We Mean To Say 8/30/2012
145. The Down-Hill Track 8/30/2012
146. The Little Black Cormorant 8/30/2012
147. Intangible Tigers 8/30/2012
148. Kemal - The Posh Pasha 8/30/2012
149. The Old Gunn's Gully Line 8/30/2012
150. The Oil From Bill Shane 8/30/2012
151. Warrnambool 8/30/2012
152. The Eastern Shrike-Tit 8/30/2012
153. The Listening Week 8/30/2012
154. Hoch Der Hausfrau! 8/30/2012
155. The Golden Whistler 8/30/2012
156. 'I Dips Me Lid' 8/30/2012
157. Summer Sanctuary 8/31/2012
158. The Pallid Cuckoo 8/31/2012
159. The Fool And The Fire 8/31/2012
160. How We Backed The Favourite 8/31/2012

Comments about Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

  • Amelia Bright (4/1/2008 3:49:00 AM)

    the reson i have looked this poem up is we are lerning it at bribie island state school it is a good poem for kids my techer learnt it 50 years ago.

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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!

Our Cow

Down by the slipralls stands our cow
Chewing, chewing, chewing,
She does not care what folks out there
In the great, big world are doing.
She sees the small cloud-shadows pass
And green grass shining under.
If she does think, what does she think
About it all, I wonder?

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