Ogden Nash
New York / United States
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A Tale Of The Thirteenth Floor

Rating: 3.1
The hands of the clock were reaching high
In an old midtown hotel;
I name no name, but its sordid fame
Is table talk in hell.
I name no name, but hell's own flame
Illumes the lobby garish,
A gilded snare just off Times Square
For the maidens of the parish.

The revolving door swept the grimy floor
Like a crinoline grotesque,
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COMMENTS
Heather Hudson 10 April 2021
I found and memorized this poem when I was 13 and how fitting. It is my favorite poem and by my favorite author.
0 0 Reply
Don Gedd 14 October 2020
I've had this poem memorized but have no idea where I learned it. It's not a popular one, so how did I ever find it? I guess that mystery is very fitting.
1 0 Reply
Lucy Diamond 30 January 2018
Love this poem Read it many years ago. Glad to have found it again.
6 0 Reply
Shannon Chapel 31 December 2005
Fabulous! Simply fabulous. S
10 2 Reply
Pat Bailey 18 October 2004
I send this out every year, about the middle of October, to family and friends. It's so untypical of Ogden Nash's work, and it tells a good story. One can use Google or most any search engine to find out who 'Nan, with her flowery fan' was - and everybody else mentioned, too. Handily, the line 'On this Walpurgis Night' has the same metrical pattern as 'On this All-Hallows Night', so with a little change to the text, we have a Halloween poem!
10 2 Reply

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