Poems List

Tableau at Twilight

Tableau at Twilight
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone.
Enter a child and an ice-cream cone.
A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.
The friendly embers warmer gleam,
The cone begins to drip ice cream.
Cones are composed of many a vitamin.
My lap is not the place to bitamin.
Although my raiment is not chinchilla,
I flinch to see it become vanilla.
Coniferous child, when vanilla melts
I’d rather it melted somewhere else.
Exit child with remains of cone.
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone,
Muttering spells like an angry Druid,
Alone, in the dusk, with the cleaning fluid.
211

The Ant

The Ant
The ant has made herself illustrious
By constant industry industrious.
So what? Would you be calm and placid
If you were full of formic acid?
304

Soliloquy in Circles

Soliloquy in Circles
Being a father
Is quite a bother.
You are as free as air
With time to spare,
You're a fiscal rocket
With change in your pocket,
And then one morn
A child is born.
Your life has been runcible,
Irresponsible,
Like an arrow or javelin
You've been constantly travelin'.
But mostly, I daresay,
Without a chaise percée,
To which by comparison
Nothing's embarison.
But all children matures,
Maybe even yours.
You improve them mentally
And straighten them dentally,
They grow tall as a lancer
And ask questions you can't answer,
And supply you with data
About how everybody else wears lipstick sooner and stays up later,
And if they are popular,
The phone they monopular.
They scorn the dominion
Of their parent's opinion,
They're no longer corralable
Once they find that you're fallible
But after you've raised them and educated them and gowned them,
They just take their little fingers and wrap you around them.
Being a father Is quite a bother,
But I like it, rather.
258

Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children

Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
Contrariwise, my blood runs cold
When little boys go by.
For little boys as little boys,
No special hate I carry,
But now and then they grow to men,
And when they do, they marry.
No matter how they tarry,
Eventually they marry.
And, swine among the pearls,
They marry little girls.
Oh, somewhere, somewhere, an infant plays,
With parents who feed and clothe him.
Their lips are sticky with pride and praise,
But I have begun to loathe him.
Yes, I loathe with loathing shameless
This child who to me is nameless.
This bachelor child in his carriage
Gives never a thought to marriage,
But a person can hardly say knife
Before he will hunt him a wife.
I never see an infant (male),
A-sleeping in the sun,
Without I turn a trifle pale
And think is he the one?
Oh, first he'll want to crop his curls,
And then he'll want a pony,
And then he'll think of pretty girls,
And holy matrimony.
A cat without a mouse
Is he without a spouse.
Oh, somewhere he bubbles bubbles of milk,
And quietly sucks his thumbs.
His cheeks are roses painted on silk,
And his teeth are tucked in his gums.
But alas the teeth will begin to grow,
And the bubbles will cease to bubble;
Given a score of years or so,
The roses will turn to stubble.
He'll sell a bond, or he'll write a book,
And his eyes will get that acquisitive look,
And raging and ravenous for the kill,
He'll boldly ask for the hand of Jill.
This infant whose middle
Is diapered still
Will want to marry My daughter Jill.
Oh sweet be his slumber and moist his middle!


My dreams, I fear, are infanticiddle.
A fig for embryo Lohengrins!
I'll open all his safety pins,
I'll pepper his powder, and salt his bottle,
And give him readings from Aristotle.
Sand for his spinach I'll gladly bring,
And Tabasco sauce for his teething ring.
Then perhaps he'll struggle though fire and water
To marry somebody else's daughter.
193

Samson Agonistes

Samson Agonistes
I test my bath before I sit,
And I'm always moved to wonderment
That what chills the finger not a bit
Is so frigid upon the fundament.
188

Reflections On Ice-Breaking

Reflections On Ice-Breaking
Candy
Is Dandy
But liquor
Is quicker.
260

Reflection On Babies

Reflection On Babies
A bit of talcum
Is always walcum.
236

Reflection On The Fallibility Of Nemesis

Reflection On The Fallibility Of Nemesis
He who is ridden by a conscience
Worries about a lot of nonscience;
He without benefit of scruples
His fun and income soon quadruples.
225

Portrait of the Artist as a Prematurely Old Man

Portrait of the Artist as a Prematurely Old Man
It is common knowledge to every schoolboy and even every Bachelor of Arts,
That all sin is divided into two parts.
One kind of sin is called a sin of commission, and that is very important,
And it is what you are doing when you are doing something you ortant,
And the other kind of sin is just the opposite and is called a sin of omission
and is equally bad in the eyes of all right-thinking people, from
Billy Sunday to Buddha,
And it consists of not having done something you shuddha.
I might as well give you my opinion of these two kinds of sin as long as,
in a way, against each other we are pitting them,
And that is, don't bother your head about the sins of commission because
however sinful, they must at least be fun or else you wouldn't be
committing them.
It is the sin of omission, the second kind of sin,
That lays eggs under your skin.
The way you really get painfully bitten
Is by the insurance you haven't taken out and the checks you haven't added up
the stubs of and the appointments you haven't kept and the bills you
haven't paid and the letters you haven't written.
Also, about sins of omission there is one particularly painful lack of beauty,
Namely, it isn't as though it had been a riotous red-letter day or night every
time you neglected to do your duty;
You didn't get a wicked forbidden thrill
Every time you let a policy lapse or forget to pay a bill;
You didn't slap the lads in the tavern on the back and loudly cry Whee,
Let's all fail to write just one more letter before we go home, and this round
of unwritten letters is on me.
No, you never get any fun
Out of things you haven't done,
But they are the things that I do not like to be amid,
Because the suitable things you didn't do give you a lot more trouble than the
unsuitable things you did.
The moral is that it is probably better not to sin at all, but if some kind of
sin you must be pursuing,
Well, remember to do it by doing rather than by not doing.
215

Pretty Halcyon Days

Pretty Halcyon Days
How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun,
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,
No bills to be burned,
No work to be shirked,
No cash to be earned,
It is pleasant to sit on the beach
With nothing at all to be done!
How pleasant to look at the ocean,
Democratic and damp; indiscriminate;
It fills me with noble emotion
To think I am able to swim in it.
To lave in the wave,
Majestic and chilly,
Tomorrow I crave;
But today it is silly.
It is pleasant to look at the ocean;
Tomorrow, perhaps, I shall swim in it.
How pleasant to gaze at the sailors
As their sailboats they manfully sail
With the vigor of vikings and whalers
In the days of the vikings and whale.
They sport on the brink
Of the shad and the shark;
If it’s windy, they sink;
If it isn’t, they park.
It is pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
To gaze without having to sail.
How pleasant the salt anesthetic
Of the air and the sand and the sun;
Leave the earth to the strong and athletic,
And the sea to adventure upon.
But the sun and the sand
No contractor can copy;
We lie in the land
Of the lotus and poppy;
We vegetate, calm and aesthetic,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun.
196

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Identification and basic context

Ogden Nash was an American poet, known for his distinctive, humorous verse. He was born Frederic Ogden Nash and often used his given name in his work. He was an American citizen and wrote exclusively in English. His life and work spanned much of the 20th century, a period of significant social and technological change in the United States.

Childhood and education

Nash was born into a well-established family in Rye, New York. His father was a successful businessman. He attended public schools and later went to St. George's School in Newport, Rhode Island. He briefly attended Harvard University but dropped out before graduating. Despite not completing a traditional degree, Nash was well-read and possessed a sharp intellect, which he applied to his literary endeavors.

Literary trajectory

Nash began his writing career in advertising and journalism. He worked for several publications, including *The New Yorker*, where his unique poetic style found a receptive audience. His first book of poetry, *Primrose Path*, was published in 1935, and was followed by numerous other collections throughout his career. His work was widely published in magazines and anthologized frequently, solidifying his reputation as a major humorist.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Nash's major works include *The Primrose Path* (1935), *The Face Is Familiar* (1940), *I'm a Stranger Here Myself* (1938), and *Versus* (1949). His poems often dealt with themes of everyday life, social customs, animals, and the quirks of human behavior. Nash's style is characterized by its highly original, often deliberately awkward, rhyme schemes and meter. He frequently employed neologisms (invented words) and portmanteaus to achieve humorous effects and unexpected rhymes. His poetic voice is witty, observational, and gently satirical, often adopting a conversational tone. He was a master of wordplay, puns, and humorous juxtapositions. His innovations lay in his radical departure from traditional poetic forms for humorous effect, creating a unique niche in American poetry.

Cultural and historical context

Nash's work reflected the social and cultural landscape of mid-20th century America. His poems commented on the burgeoning consumer culture, changing social mores, and the anxieties and absurdities of modern life. He was associated with the generation of American humorists that included figures like Robert Benchley and Dorothy Parker, though his style was distinctly his own. His popularity soared during a time when mass media, particularly magazines, played a significant role in shaping public taste and humor.

Personal life

Nash was married to Frances Ridgeway Lane, and they had two daughters. He was known for his genial personality and his deep love for his family. His personal life, while not overtly documented in his poetry, provided the backdrop for his observations on domesticity and everyday relationships. He enjoyed gardening and had a fondness for animals, which often featured in his poems.

Recognition and reception

Ogden Nash was immensely popular during his lifetime and continues to be widely read. His work was celebrated for its originality and humor, earning him a significant following. While not typically considered in the same academic light as more 'serious' poets, his contributions to American humor and light verse are undeniable. He received honorary degrees from several universities, recognizing his literary achievements.

Influences and legacy

While Nash's style was highly individual, he drew inspiration from the tradition of English light verse and rhyme. His legacy lies in his unique contribution to American humor and poetry. He demonstrated that poetry could be accessible, entertaining, and insightful without sacrificing linguistic playfulness. He influenced subsequent generations of humor writers and poets who appreciated his linguistic inventiveness and his ability to find humor in the mundane.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Critics often analyze Nash's work for its cleverness, linguistic dexterity, and social commentary. His poems can be seen as lighthearted explorations of human nature, offering a humorous perspective on societal norms and individual behaviors. The apparent simplicity of his verse often masks a sophisticated understanding of language and a keen observational eye.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Nash was known to be a meticulous craftsman of his poems, spending considerable time perfecting his rhymes and rhythms. Despite his humorous public persona, he was also a thoughtful individual. His distinctive handwriting, with its unique letter formations, was almost as recognizable as his poetry.

Death and memory

Ogden Nash passed away in 1971. His poems remain popular in children's literature and in collections of American humor. He is remembered as one of America's most original and beloved comic poets.