_This little volume was written for no reason on earth and with no
earthly reason. It just simply happened, on the principle, I suppose
that "murder will out." Murder is a bad thing and so are nonsense
rhymes. There is often a valid excuse for murder; there is none for
nonsense rhymes. They seem to be a necessary evil to be classed with
smallpox, chicken-pox, yellow fever and other irruptive diseases. They
are also on the order of the boomerang and eventually rebound and
inflict much suffering on the unlucky verse-slinger. So you see
nonsense, like a little learning is a dangerous thing and should be
handled with as much care as the shotgun which is never known to be
loaded._
_A man who writes nonsense may become in time a big gun. But this is
rare; more often he becomes a small bore. This appears paradoxical and
will probably require thinking over, but the more you think it over the
less you will understand. This is true of parlor magic. It is also true
of the magazine poets. It really never pays to think. Thinking is too
much like work. After reading these rhymes you will not think that the
writer ever did think, which after all is the right way to think._
_When Dryden wrote "Alexander's Feast" he modestly stated that it was
the grandest poem ever written. Mr. Dryden evidently believed this or
he wouldn't have said so. But then every one did not agree with Mr.
Dryden. Now I am going one step further and will positively state that
the writer of this volume is the greatest poetical genius who has not
yet died in infancy._
_This is an astounding statement but it can be corroborated by admiring
friends, for the writer is like a certain brand of children's food in
that he is advertised by his loving friends._
_Speaking of "Alexander's Feast" it simply cannot be compared to any
one of the finished, poetic gems in this collection because it is so
utterly different. The difference is what made Dryden famous. But
comparisons are odious, and Mr. Dryden has been dead several years._
_"But what," you may ask, "is the object of nonsense verse?" Most
assuredly to make one laugh. That masterpiece of nonsense "Alice In
Wonderland" and its companion volume "Through The Looking Class" are
absurd books, but their very absurdity is what appeals to us most.
Their author, Mr. Lewis Carroll was, in private life a very sober
gentleman (at least we hope so). Nonsense is the salt of life with
which we season the dry food of everyday cooking._
_"A little nonsense now and then
Is relished by the wisest men."_
_Even serious old Longfellow had this feeling in his bones when he
wrote the immortal lines which all of us recall from childhood:_
_"There was a little girl
And she had a little curl
Which hung way down on her forehead;
And when she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad, she was horrid."_
_This is nonsense pure and simple and even the most ardent admirers of
Mr. Longfellow must, when they try to make "forehead" and "horrid"
rhyme, admit that it was very poor verse for the author of
"Evangeline."_
_Bret Harte flew off at a tangent when he wrote about "Ah Sin, The
Chinaman," a nonsense poem that gave "Bill Nye" his pseudonym. Oliver
Wendell Holmes wrote "The Wonderful One-Hoss Shay." Rudyard Kipling is
often "caught with the goods on him" and Mark Twain wrote an "Ode to
Stephen Dowling Botts."_
_And Great Scott! I almost forgot that even such a gentle, domestic
creature as the cow has been the unconscious inspiration of much
nonsense and has doubtless often chewed the bitter cud of reflection in
deploring her undesired popularity. First she was forced (very much
against her will, no doubt) to jump over the moon to the undignified
strains of "Hey Diddle, Diddle." Then, just when beginning to breathe
easily again after that astounding performance, Gelett Burgess came
along and gave her more notoriety by raising the question as to whether
there was such a thing as a "purple cow." And even today in many of the
rural districts there are old farmers who never heard of Burgess and
his "purple cow" who will tell you solemnly that "there is a cow of a
sort of purplish color." Which goes to prove that after all nonsense is
only sense plus--NON._
The poems in this collection have appeared from time to time in The
Kentucky Post, The Cincinnati Post, The Cincinnati Commercial Tribune,
Humanity and The Valley Magazine.