Spring Comes to Murray Hill
The very first poem that Nash ever published in the New Yorker is a typical mixture of Seussian invention of words that are directed brilliantly toward the subject at hand: in this case asking himself why a writer of his inventiveness was wasting that talent writing inane advertising copy.
The Carcarjou and the Kincajou
In which the two strangely-named animals come to blows as a result of laughing at each other’s ridiculous name.
A termite got hungry and Cousin May paid the price with one wrong step on the floor.
A poem asking readers to consider how we look to the animal that we consider strange in appearance.
In which the hunter in his blind is revealed to be going to one heck of an awful lot of trouble just to outwit a duck.
A Word to Husbands
The advice: admit it when you’re wrong and shut up when you’re right.
They have literally been around since the genesis of man.
In which a man wonders why water tested with a finger doesn’t feel cold, but when you put some more sensitive body parts in after testing, the water is revealed to be quite frigid.
In which the narrator wishes he had some medical device to determine the state of ripeness through the rind before purchase.
A satire on all those poems that express summer in such glorious imagery, reminding readers that July is hot, sticky and altogether unpleasant as a condition for love.
The poet rebukes the very existence of the centipede as serving no purpose as well as being difficult to kill.
The Solitary Huntsman
Another revelation of the unerring poet’s eye when directed toward ridiculous concept of calling hunting small animals a “sport.”
Always Marry and April Girl
The poem extolls in almost overzealous language the supreme joys of a girl named April.
Not exactly a requiem, but a limerick about a girl from Natchez and her habit of scratches that lead to holes in her clothes.
The Romantic Age
Not a literary era, but that special time of life when a girl starts to dream of being a bride.
The lion eats Mr. Bryan. The lioness eats the Bryaness.
Weird creature, the firefly. What if people glowed from their behind?
Grandpa is Ashamed
From whom a child learns that “later” is synonymous with “never.”
Professor Twist, upon learning that his wife had been eaten by a jungle alligator and his first response is to correct the messenger by educating him that he meant crocodile.
The People Upstairs
Whom the poet could learn to love despite their pervasive loudness…if only they were the people downstairs.