Biography of Ogden Nash
Born Frederick Ogden Nash on August 19, 1902 in Rye, New York.
An ancestor, General Francis Nash, gave his name to Nashville, Tennessee.
Raised in Rye, New York and Savannah, Georgia. Educated at St. George's School in Rhode Island and, briefly, Harvard University.
Started work writing advertising copy for Doubleday, Page Publishing, New York, in 1925.
Published first book for children, The Cricket of Caradon in 1925.
First published poem Spring Comes to Murray Hill appears in New Yorker magazine in 1930.
Joins staff at New Yorker in 1932.
Married Frances Rider Leonard on June 6, 1933.
Published 19 books of poetry.
Collaborated, in 1943, in the musical comedy, One Touch of Venus
Elected to the National Institute of Arts and Letters in 1950.
Lived in New York but his principal home was in Baltimore, Maryland, where he died on May 19, 1971. He was buried in North Hampton, New Hampshire.
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Ogden Nash Poems
A Word To Husbands
To keep your marriage brimming With love in the loving cup,
Always Marry An April Girl
Praise the spells and bless the charms, I found April in my arms. April golden, April cloudy, Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
Adventures Of Isabel
Isabel met an enormous bear, Isabel, Isabel, didn't care; The bear was hungry, the bear was ravenous, The bear's big mouth was cruel and cavernous.
A Lady Who Thinks She Is Thirty
Unwillingly Miranda wakes, Feels the sun with terror, One unwilling step she takes, Shuddering to the mirror.
Go hang yourself, you old M.D.! You shall not sneer at me. Pick up your hat and stethoscope, Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
First Child ... Second Child
FIRST Be it a girl, or one of the boys, It is scarlet all over its avoirdupois,
A Drink With Something In It
There is something about a Martini, A tingle remarkably pleasant; A yellow, a mellow Martini; I wish I had one at present.
A Caution To Everybody
Once upon a time there was an Italian, And some people thought he was a rapscallion, But he wasn't offended, Because other people thought he was splendid,
Bankers Are Just Like Anybody Else, Exce...
This is a song to celebrate banks, Because they are full of money and you go into them and all you hear is clinks and clanks, Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
The Tale Of Custard The Dragon
Belinda lived in a little white house, With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse, And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon, And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Crossing The Border
à Bas Ben Adhem
My fellow man I do not care for.
I often ask me, What's he there for?
The only answer I can find
Is, Reproduction of his kind.
If I'm supposed to swallow that,
Winnetka is my habitat.
Isn't it time to carve Hic Jacet
Above that Reproduction racket?