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A Love Letter

Dearest!
You know you ever ARE the nearest
To my fond heart.
Joking apart,
I swear, by all the silly stars above you,
Darling, I love you! ...

I really don't know what more I can say.
But, lest you may
Consider this epistle too brief,
And nurse some silly - some absurd belief
That I'm neglectful. Why,
I'll try
To fill a sheet or two -
To comfort you.
What can I say?
Oh, by the way!
I noticed, somewhere, in the paper lately
That someone named - er - was it Mister Blaitley?
No - Blakeley, I think.
(Another dip of ink.)
This Mr. Blakeley says the Labor Party
Will gladly give support, both full and hearty,
To ANY man who send this person, Hughes
To - well, you know the term that I would use? . . .
Darling, I must fill out a sheet or two.
I know that you
Are not much interested in politics -
(You are so full of such distracting tricks)
And I remember that last time you noted
You said you simply doted
Upon one candidate's absurd moustache.
Dear, you were rash . . . .
Now, let me see, 'twas Brown - No? Smithson, was it?
I recollect the fool lost his deposit.
But, anyhow,
I want to warn you now
Against a repetition of such acts.
Let us get down to facts.
Can you believe -
Can you, my precious pippin, e'er conceive
That I (despite my faults and obvious failings) could -
(No; that's no good.)
But can
You realise that a crowd of sane, honest, intelligent, right-thinking, earnest,
  idealistic politicians can evolve a really patriotic plan
(That's getting scientific,
But I am most remarkably prolific)
Can
They evolve a plan
Predicating that any ordinary and, say, unspecified man
(Your pardon! I do not
Refer to Mister Watt)
But do you think they can
With decency declare that ANY MAN
May get then into Office - if he can?
Indubitably, NO!!
The more I go -
However, inter alia,
Think you such men give heed to our Australia?
Think you those burning
Questions waiting on the threshold yearning
To be discussed
Have got them 'fussed'?
No, sweetest, no.
It's just the Game you know.
Think you they're patriotic,
Or just, well, say neurotic?
Think you they take the view
That these shrewd moves advance, say, me and you?
My dear, they don't.
And, while the Party System lasts, they won't.
Those vital questions,
Those statesmanlike suggestions
Regarding - well - why, emigration, say
And some reduction in a member's pay,
That linger on the doormat, palpitating,
Will go on waiting,
While puerile politicians 'play the game.'
Ain't it a shame? . . .
My cabbage! I'd forgotten
You always thought that politics were 'rotten.'
Pardon this letter.
Next time I shall endeavour to do better
If you are bored, old thug, it truly grieves me.
I hope this missive finds you as it leaves me.
So, dear, I'll meet you on the block at six.
And spite all politics,
We'll carry on.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

2:37 min read
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Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis, better known as C. J. Dennis, was an Australian poet known for his humorous poems, especially "The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke", published in the early 20th century. Though Dennis's work is less well known today, his 1915 publication of The Sentimental Bloke sold 65,000 copies in its first year, and by 1917 he was the most prosperous poet in Australian history. Together with Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson, both of whom he had collaborated with, he is often considered among Australia's three most famous poets. While attributed to Lawson by 1911, Dennis later claimed he himself was the 'laureate of the larrikin'. When he died at the age of 61, the Prime Minister of Australia Joseph Lyons suggested he was destined to be remembered as the 'Australian Robert Burns'. more…

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