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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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by Ogden Nash | |


 Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me; "Here he lies where he longed to be, Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.

by Ogden Nash | |


 There is a knocking in the skull,
An endless silent shout
Of something beating on a wall,
And crying, “Let me out!”

That solitary prisoner
Will never hear reply.
No comrade in eternity Can hear the frantic cry.
No heart can share the terror That haunts his monstrous dark.
The light that filters through the chinks No other eye can mark.
When flesh is linked with eager flesh, And words run warm and full, I think that he is loneliest then, The captive in the skull.
Caught in a mesh of living veins, In cell of padded bone, He loneliest is when he pretends That he is not alone.
We’d free the incarcerate race of man That such a doom endures Could only you unlock my skull, Or I creep into yours.

by Ogden Nash | |

One Third Of The Calendar

 In January everything freezes.
We have two children.
Both are she'ses.
This is our January rule: One girl in bed, and one in school.
In February the blizzard whirls.
We own a pair of little girls.
Blessings upon of each the head ---- The one in school and the one in bed.
March is the month of cringe and bluster.
Each of our children has a sister.
They cling together like Hansel and Gretel, With their noses glued to the benzoin kettle.
April is made of impetuous waters And doctors looking down throats of daughters.
If we had a son too, and a thoroughbred, We'd have a horse, And a boy, And two girls In bed.

by Ogden Nash | |

The Sniffle

 In spite of her sniffle
Isabel's chiffle.
Some girls with a sniffle Would be weepy and tiffle; They would look awful, Like a rained-on waffle, But Isabel's chiffle In spite of her sniffle.
Her nose is more red With a cold in her head, But then, to be sure, Her eyes are bluer.
Some girls with a snuffle, Their tempers are uffle.
But when Isabel's snivelly She's snivelly civilly, And when she's snuffly She's perfectly luffly.

by Ogden Nash | |

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?

by Ogden Nash | |

The Bargain

 As I was going to St.
Ives I met a man with seven lives; Seven lives, In seven sacks, Like seven beeves On seven racks.
These seven lives He offered to sell, But which was best He couldn't tell.
He swore with any I'd be happy forever; I bought all seven And thought I was clever, But his parting words I can't forget: Forever Isn't over yet.

by Ogden Nash | |

The Abominable Snowman

 I've never seen an abominable snowman, 
I'm hoping not to see one, 
I'm also hoping, if I do, 
That it will be a wee one.

by Ogden Nash | |

Whats The Use?

 Sure, deck your limbs in pants,
Yours are the limbs, my sweeting.
You look divine as you advance .
Have you seen yourself retreating?

by Ogden Nash | |

The Cantaloupe

 One cantaloupe is ripe and lush,
Another's green, another's mush.
I'd buy a lot more cantaloupe If I possessed a fluoroscope.

by Ogden Nash | |

The Centipede

 I objurgate the centipede, 
A bug we do not really need.
At sleepy-time he beats a path Straight to the bedroom or the bath.
You always wallop where he's not, Or, if he is, he makes a spot.

by Ogden Nash | |

The Chipmunk

 My friends all know that I am shy,
But the chipmunk is twice and shy and I.
He moves with flickering indecision Like stripes across the television.
He's like the shadow of a cloud, Or Emily Dickinson read aloud.

by Ogden Nash | |

The Shrimp

 A shrimp who sought his lady shrimp
Could catch no glimpse
Not even a glimp.
At times, translucence Is rather a nuisance.

by Ogden Nash | |

The Rhinoceros

 The rhino is a homely beast, 
For human eyes he's not a feast.
Farwell, farewell, you old rhinoceros, I'll stare at something less prepoceros.

by Ogden Nash | |

The Romantic Age

 This one is entering her teens,
Ripe for sentimental scenes,
Has picked a gangling unripe male,
Sees herself in bridal veil,
Presses lips and tosses head,
Declares she's not too young to wed,
Informs you pertly you forget
Romeo and Juliet.
Do not argue, do not shout; Remind her how that one turned out.

by Ogden Nash | |

Spring Comes To Murray Hill

 I sit in an office at 244 Madison Avenue
And say to myself You have a responsible job havenue?
Why then do you fritter away your time on this doggerel?
If you have a sore throat you can cure it by using a good goggeral,
If you have a sore foot you can get it fixed by a chiropodist,
And you can get your original sin removed by St.
John the Bopodist, Why then should this flocculent lassitude be incurable? Kansas City, Kansas, proves that even Kansas City needn't always be Missourible.
Up up my soul! This inaction is abominable.
Perhaps it is the result of disturbances abdominable.
The pilgrims settled Massachusetts in 1620 when they landed on a stone hummock.
Maybe if they were here now they would settle my stomach.
Oh, if I only had the wings of a bird Instead of being confined on Madison Avenue I could soar in a jiffy to Second or Third.

by Ogden Nash | |

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.

by Ogden Nash | |

The Solitary Huntsman

 The solitary huntsman
No coat of pink doth wear,
But midnight black from cap to spur
Upon his midnight mare.
He drones a tuneless jingle In lieu of tally-ho: “I’ll catch a fox And put him in a box And never let him go.
” The solitary huntsman, He follows silent hounds.
No horn proclaims his joyless sport, And never a hoofbeat sounds.
His hundred hounds, his thousands, Their master’s will they know: To catch a fox And put him in a box And never let him go.
For all the fox’s doubling They track him to his den.
The chase may fill a morning, Or threescore years and ten.
The huntsman never sated Screaks to his saddlebow, “I’ll catch another fox And put him in a box And never let him go.

by Ogden Nash | |

The Squab

 Toward a better world I contribute my modest smidgin;
I eat the squab, lest it become a pigeon.

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?

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.