Opposite the title page of The Primrose Path there is a list of "other books by Ogden Nash" and one of them, we observe with mild surprise, is The Primrose Path. If there were some other author we'd call this a discrepancy, but with Mr. Nash one can't be certain. Quite possibly he devotes all his spare time to primrose pathfinding, and for the sake of a little privacy he may have a hidden primrose path from which the public is excluded—though that would be a crime.

A Daniel Boone on the fantastic frontiers of rhyme, Mr. Nash nonchalantly blazes trails of prosody which are rapidly hacked into highways by his imitators. But he has a goofy gallop in verse which leaves the copyists far behind. We'd rather watch Nash on his piebald Pegasus than Lady Godiva on a white horse. His performance is like that of the fellow who leaped into the saddle and dashed off in all directions. He goes neatly over social hedges and takes political ditches in his stride, and so—mind if we borrow your pencil, mister?—here's a straight tip: Put two berries and a half on Nash to win. It's in the book!

The Primrose Path is wider, longer and roomier than the previous Nash models. It has everything except a center of gravity—poems of appreciation, of indignation, of the animal kingdom and of the fireside. There are also "poems to be pinned to the calendar," from which category we quote a seasonal excerpt. It appears in Mr. Nash's "Song for the Saddest Ides."

Citizen? Resident? Married? Single?
Living together, or don't you mingle?
Blessed events? If so, please state
Change of status, its nature and date.
Royalties? Rents? Commissions? Fees?
If none, explain their absence, please.
And let there be no legal flaw
In Deductions Authorized by Law.

Salaries? Wages? Sale of Property?
Here comes the Notary, hippety-hoppety!

Raise your hand and take your oath
To tell the truth or bust. Or both.