ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

I've been involved in some discussions recently on the question of "What would CJ Dennis think of the logging that has recently been taking place near Toolangi? Would he approve or disapprove?"

It is a discussion that is really peripheral to the current debate, but is interesting nonetheless. I have to say, I think it's probably not a great idea to try to be too dogmatic on a subject such as this. CJ Dennis, after all, is not in a position to vent his opinions today, so all we can do is speculate. I have my own views on the subject, but that is all they are, and I don't think there is much to be gained by airing them publicly.

Having said that, though, there is some writing by Dennis that is broadly relevant, and I will quote it here. As much as anything, I think the prose is exceptionally beautiful and thought provoking, and deserves a wider audience.

Both of these quotes are taken from 'The Quiet Hour', a piece of prose in Dennis' final book, 'The Singing Garden'.

"As the gloaming deepens, there descends upon this scene a mantle of peace so profound that it is past explaining - a feeling of content so deep, of such calm and unquestioning acceptance of all things, that it seems to hold some quality of mystery that 'twould be folly to explore. Out of the brooding forest, the darkening sky, the last goings and comings of birds, the little whispered calls and secret songs and rustlings, there steals to one a sense of infinite well-being, definite and real enough while the mind accepts it without question; yet so impalpable as to vanish utterly the moment it becomes a problem for curious enquiry."

I had to read this a number of times before I felt I had a good handle on it. I still re-read it often, because I think it is just so sweet.

Here is the second quote.

"It is darkening rapidly now; the kookaburra is still perched upon the high gable, though I can discern little more than his silhouette. As I watch he becomes suddenly alert and, diving straight as an arrow for a spot on the lawn not three feet from my chair, swiftly, with perfect confidence, plunges his great bill into the earth and unerring draws forth a fine fat worm. He calmly batters it twice against a rung of the chair, gobbles it, turns about awkwardly on clumsy feet and, before he has flown thirty yards, darkness conceals him.

Here is yet another mystery. How in that half-darkness, from sixty feet away or more, did that kookaburra know with such unerring certitude that the worm was exactly at that spot and so easily accessible? Is he possessed of vision so unbelievably keen that, from that distance and in such feeble light, he detected some infinitesimal earth movement that betrayed the worm? Did the unlucky worm betray itself by a sound-vibration too minutely high in frequency for human ears? Or again, has the kookaburra some sixth sense that we lords of earth are unable to discover or to comprehend?

And, last question of all: is it vastly important that I or any other human should know?"

I read recently that Dennis' long suit was humour, but he when it came to serious matters, he had nothing to say. I have to say, I could not disagree more strongly with this sentiment.

G'day Doc,
as I have said before, Dennis has never really done much for me, the more you write about the man, the more I am warming to his work, a very interesting post mate.

Stephen, You may be interested to know ; Henry Lawson wrote a poem which is a sort of protest about the overuse of forest resources,
it's called The Stringy Bark Tree.

Thanks, Ross, and thanks you, too, Neville. I'll check it out.