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Best Famous Ogden Nash Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Ogden Nash poems. This is a select list of the best famous Ogden Nash poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Ogden Nash poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Ogden Nash poems.

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Written by Ogden Nash |

Very Like a Whale

 One thing that literature would be greatly the better for
Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and
Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts, Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to go out of their way to say that it is like something else.
What does it mean when we are told That that Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold? In the first place, George Gordon Byron had enough experience To know that it probably wasn't just one Assyrian, it was a lot of Assyrians.
However, as too many arguments are apt to induce apoplexy and thus hinder longevity.
We'll let it pass as one Assyrian for the sake of brevity.
Now then, this particular Assyrian, the one whose cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold, Just what does the poet mean when he says he came down like a wold on the fold? In heaven and earth more than is dreamed of in our philosophy there are great many things.
But I don't imagine that among them there is a wolf with purple and gold cohorts or purple and gold anythings.
No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was actually like a wolf I must have some kind of proof; Did he run on all fours and did he have a hairy tail and a big red mouth and big white teeth and did he say Woof Woof? Frankly I think it is very unlikely, and all you were entitled to say, at the very most, Was that the Assyrian cohorts came down like a lot of Assyrian cohorts about to destroy the Hebrew host.
But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them, With the result that whenever you mention Old Testament soldiers to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.
That's the kind of thing that's being done all the time by poets, from Homer to Tennyson; They're always comparing ladies to lilies and veal to venison, And they always say things like that the snow is a white blanket after a winter storm.
Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical blanket material and we'll see which one keeps warm, And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly What I mean by too much metaphor and simile.

Written by Ogden Nash |

Tin Wedding Whistle

 Though you know it anyhow 
Listen to me, darling, now, 
Proving what I need not prove 
How I know I love you, love.
Near and far, near and far, I am happy where you are; Likewise I have never larnt How to be it where you aren't.
Far and wide, far and wide, I can walk with you beside; Furthermore, I tell you what, I sit and sulk where you are not.
Visitors remark my frown Where you're upstairs and I am down, Yes, and I'm afraid I pout When I'm indoors and you are out; But how contentedly I view Any room containing you.
In fact I care not where you be, Just as long as it's with me.
In all your absences I glimpse Fire and flood and trolls and imps.
Is your train a minute slothful? I goad the stationmaster wrothful.
When with friends to bridge you drive I never know if you're alive, And when you linger late in shops I long to telephone the cops.
Yet how worth the waiting for, To see you coming through the door.
Somehow, I can be complacent Never but with you adjacent.
Near and far, near and far, I am happy where you are; Likewise I have never larnt How to be it where you aren't.
Then grudge me not my fond endeavor, To hold you in my sight forever; Let none, not even you, disparage Such a valid reason for a marriage.

Written by Ogden Nash |

Peekabo I Almost See You

 Middle-aged life is merry, and I love to
lead it,
But there comes a day when your eyes
are all right but your arm isn't long
to hold the telephone book where you can read it,
And your friends get jocular, so you go
to the oculist,
And of all your friends he is the joculist,
So over his facetiousness let us skim,
Only noting that he has been waiting for you ever since
you said Good evening to his grandfather clock under
the impression that it was him,
And you look at his chart and it says SHRDLU QWERTYOP,
and you say Well, why SHRDNTLU QWERTYOP? and he
says one set of glasses won't do.
You need two.
One for reading Erle Stanley Gardner's Perry Mason and Keats's "Endymion" with, And the other for walking around without saying Hello to strange wymion with.
So you spend your time taking off your seeing glasses to put on your reading glasses, and then remembering that your reading glasses are upstairs or in the car, And then you can't find your seeing glasses again because without them on you can't see where they are.
Enough of such mishaps, they would try the patience of an ox, I prefer to forget both pairs of glasses and pass my declining years saluting strange women and grandfather clocks.

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Written by Ogden Nash |

Just Keep Quiet and Nobody Will Notice

 There is one thing that ought to be taught in all the colleges,
Which is that people ought to be taught not to go around always making apologies.
I don't mean the kind of apologies people make when they run over you or borrow five dollars or step on your feet, Because I think that is sort of sweet; No, I object to one kind of apology alone, Which is when people spend their time and yours apologizing for everything they own.
You go to their house for a meal, And they apologize because the anchovies aren't caviar or the partridge is veal; They apologize privately for the crudeness of the other guests, And they apologize publicly for their wife's housekeeping or their husband's jests; If they give you a book by Dickens they apologize because it isn't by Scott, And if they take you to the theater, they apologize for the acting and the dialogue and the plot; They contain more milk of human kindness than the most capacious diary can, But if you are from out of town they apologize for everything local and if you are a foreigner they apologize for everything American.
I dread these apologizers even as I am depicting them, I shudder as I think of the hours that must be spend in contradicting them, Because you are very rude if you let them emerge from an argument victorious, And when they say something of theirs is awful, it is your duty to convince them politely that it is magnificent and glorious, And what particularly bores me with them, Is that half the time you have to politely contradict them when you rudely agree with them, So I think there is one rule every host and hostess ought to keep with the comb and nail file and bicarbonate and aromatic spirits on a handy shelf, Which is don't spoil the denouement by telling the guests everything is terrible, but let them have the thrill of finding it out for themselves.

Written by Ogden Nash |

Reflection On Caution

 Affection is a noble quality;
It leads to generosity and jollity.
But it also leads to breach of promise If you go around lavishing it on red-hot momise.

Written by Ogden Nash |

A Word to Husbands

 To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
Whenever you’re right, shut up.

Written by Ogden Nash |

What Almost Every Woman Knows Sooner Or Later

 Husbands are things that wives have to get used to putting up with.
And with whom they breakfast with and sup with.
They interfere with the discipline of nurseries, And forget anniversaries, And when they have been particularly remiss They think they can cure everything with a great big kiss, And when you tell them about something awful they have done they just look unbearably patient and smile a superior smile, And think, Oh she'll get over it after a while.
And they always drink cocktails faster than they can assimilate them, And if you look in their direction they act as if they were martyrs and you were trying to sacrifice, or immolate them, And when it's a question of walking five miles to play golf they are very energetic but if it's doing anything useful around the house they are very lethargic, And then they tell you that women are unreasonable and don't know anything about logic, And they never want to get up or go to bed at the same time as you do, And when you perform some simple common or garden rite like putting cold cream on your face or applying a touch of lipstick they seem to think that you are up to some kind of black magic like a priestess of Voodoo.
And they are brave and calm and cool and collected about the ailments of the person they have promised to honor and cherish, But the minute they get a sniffle or a stomachache of their own, why you'd think they were about to perish, And when you are alone with them they ignore all the minor courtesies and as for airs and graces, they uttlerly lack them, But when there are a lot of people around they hand you so many chairs and ashtrays and sandwiches and butter you with such bowings and scrapings that you want to smack them.
Husbands are indeed an irritating form of life, And yet through some quirk of Providence most of them are really very deeply ensconced in the affection of their wife.

Written by Ogden Nash |

The Dog

 The truth I do not stretch or shove
When I state that the dog is full of love.
I've also found, by actual test, A wet dog is the lovingest.

Written by Ogden Nash |

No You Be A Lone Eagle

 I find it very hard to be fair-minded
About people who go around being air-minded.
I just can't see any fun In soaring up up up into the sun When the chances are still a fresh cool orchid to a paper geranium That you'll unsoar down down down onto your (to you) invaluable cranium.
I know the constant refrain About how safer up in God's trafficless heaven than in an automobile or a train But .
My God, have you ever taken a good look at a strut? Then that one about how you're in Boston before you can say antidis- establishmentarianism So that preferring to take five hours by rail is a pernicious example of antiquarianism.
At least when I get on the Boston train I have a good chance of landing in the South Station And not in that part of the daily press which is reserved for victims of aviation.
Then, despite the assurance that aeroplanes are terribly comfortable I notice that when you are railroading or automobiling You don't have to take a paper bag along just in case of a funny feeling.
It seems to me that no kind of depravity Brings such speedy retribution as ignoring the law of gravity.
Therefore nobody could possibly indict me for perjury When I swear that I wish the Wright brothers had gone in for silver fox farming or tree surgery.

Written by Ogden Nash |

Lines On Facing Forty

 I have a bone to pick with Fate.
Come here and tell me, girlie, Do you think my mind is maturing late, Or simply rotted early?

Written by Ogden Nash |

Winter Complaint

 Now when I have a cold
I am careful with my cold, 
I consult a physician 
And I do as I am told.
I muffle up my torso In woolly woolly garb, And I quaff great flagons Of sodium bicarb.
I munch on aspirin, I lunch on water, And I wouldn’t dream of osculating Anybody’s daughter, And to anybody’s son I wouldn’t say howdy, For I am a sufferer Magna cum laude.
I don’t like germs, But I’ll keep the germs I’ve got.
Will I take a chance of spreading them? Definitely not.
I sneeze out the window And I cough up the flue, And I live like a hermit Till the germs get through.
And because I’m considerate, Because I’m wary, I am treated by my friends Like Typhoid Mary.
Now when you have a cold You are careless with your cold, You are cocky as a gangster Who has just been paroled.
You ignore your physician, You eat steaks and oxtails, You stuff yourself with starches, You drink lots of cocktails, And you claim that gargling Is a time of waste, And you won’t take soda For you don’t like the taste, And you prowl around parties Full of selfish bliss, And greet your hostess With a genial kiss.
You convert yourself Into a deadly missle, You exhale Hello’s Like a steamboat wistle.
You sneeze in the subway And you cough at dances, And let everybody else Take their own good chances.
You’re a bronchial boor, A bacterial blighter, And you get more invitations Than a gossip writer.
Yes, your throat is froggy, And your eyes are swimmy, And you hand is clammy, And you nose is brimmy, But you woo my girls And their hearts you jimmy While I sit here With the cold you gimmy.

Written by Ogden Nash |

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.

Written by Ogden Nash |

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.

Written by Ogden Nash |

Crossing The Border

 Senescence begins
And middle age ends
The day your descendents
Outnumber your friends.

Written by Ogden Nash |

The Camel

 The camel has a single hump; 
The dromedary , two; 
Or else the other way around.
I'm never sure.
Are you?