Ogden Nash

I love Ogden Nash's poetry.

Here is the poem for the day:

THE GERM

A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than the pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep within the human race.
His childish pride he often pleases
By giving people strange deseases.
Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?
You probably contain a germ.


Mr. Nash wrote from the early 30s until his death in 1971. He grew up in Savannah, GA and Rye, NY, dropped out of Harvard after his freshman year, and went to work as an author with Doubleday in New York.

My favorite of his poems is one my dad quoted to us repeatedly on road trips:

I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree.
Indeed, unless the billboards fall,
I'll never see a tree at all.