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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357954" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The March</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In early, prehistoric days, before the reign of Man,<br>When neolithic Nature fashioned things upon a plan<br>That was large as it was rugged, and, in truth, a trifle crude,<br>There arose a dusky human who was positively rude. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, this was in the days when lived the monster kangaroo;<br>When the mammoth bunyip gambolled in the hills of Beetaloo;<br>They'd owned the land for centuries, and reckoned it their own;<br>For might was right, and such a thing as 'law' was quite unknown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But this dusky old reformer in the ages long ago,<br>One morning in the Eocene discovered how to 'throw';<br>He studied well and practised hard until he learned the art;<br>Then, having planned his Great Campaign, went forth to make a start.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'See here,' he said - and hurled a piece of tertiary rock,<br>That struck a Tory bunyip with a most unpleasant shock -<br>'See here, my name is Progress, and your methods are too slow,<br>This land that you are fooling with must be cut up. Now go!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They gazed at him in wonder, then they slowly backed away;<br>For 'throwing' things was novel in that neolithic day;<br>'Twas the prehistoric 'argument,' the first faint gleam of 'art.'<br>Yet those mammoths seemed to take it in exceedingly bad part. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then a hoary, agéd bunyip rose, and spluttered loud and long;<br>He said the balck man's arguments were very, very wrong;<br>'You forget,' he said, indignantly 'the land is ours by right,<br>And to seek to wrest it from us would be - well, most impolite.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the savage shook his woolly head and smiled a savage smile,<br>And went on hurling prehistoric missiles all the while,<br>Till the bunyip and the others couldn't bear the argument,<br>And they said, 'You are a Socialist.' But, all the same - they went.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some centuries - or, maybe, it was aeons - later on,<br>When the bunyip and the mammoth kangaroo had passed and gone;<br>While the black man slowly profited by what his fathers saw,<br>While he learned to fashion weapons and establish tribal law.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There came a band of pale-faced men in ships, from oversea,<br>Who viewed the land, then shook their heads and sadly said, 'Dear me!'<br>Then they landed with some rum and Bibles and a gun or two,<br>And started out to 'civilize,' as whites are apt to do.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They interviewed the black man and remarked, 'It's very sad,<br>But the use you make of this great land is postively bad;<br>Why, you haven't got a sheep or cow about the blessed place!<br>Considering the price of wool, it's simply a disgrace!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then they started with the Bibles and the rum - also the guns;<br>And some began to look for gold and others 'took up runs,'<br>For, they said, 'This land must be cut up it's simply useless so:<br>Our name is Progress, and you're out of date, so you must go!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the black was most indignant, and he said it was a shame;<br>For he'd been full and satisfied before the white man came,<br>And he used that awful word, 'Bowowgong,' in his argument,<br>Which is native for 'A blanky Socialist.' And yet - he went.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's the same old 'march unceasing.' We are getting down the list,<br>And yesterday's 'Reformer' is tomorrow's 'Monopolist,'<br>For Hist'ry will repeat itself in this annoying way:<br>Who stood for 'Progress' yesterday is 'Retrograde' to-day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To-day we view the land, as did those men for oversea,<br>And, like them, slowly shake our heads and sadly say, 'Dear me!<br>This land will have to be cut up; your methods are too slow;<br>Our name is Progress; you are out of date, so you must go.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They mutter Tory Platitudes, and call the land their land;<br>For, like the bunyip and the black, they do not understand.<br>Like bunyip and like black they hark to days of long ago;<br>And, like them, murmur 'Socialist!' But, all the same - they'll go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357954" data-title="The March de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="In early, prehistoric days, before the reign of Man,
When neolithic Nature fashioned things upon a plan
That was large as it was rugged, and, in truth, a trifle crude,
There arose a dusky human who was positively rude. 

Now, this was in the days ..."></div>
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