New at IWP Books: Phyllis McGinley, 1937, One More Manhattan.

Lend Me Five Till Saturday?

Of all the words of tongue or pen,
Intoned by mice, proclaimed by men,
 Engraved on stone or snow —
All mottoes framed in prose or rhyme
To echo down the vaults of time —
 Most excellent is “No.”
Oh, brave and lovely syllable,
Heart-lifting and mouth-fillable!

Compact of artistry and wit,
Two letters form the whole of it,
 An N, a rolling zero;
A brace of simple characters
Whose utterance alone confers
 The accent of the hero.
Come, lift in swelling chorus,
The negative sonorous.

Down with the meek and yielding “yea.”
Teach the imperious tongue to say
“No” to your friends and “No” to strangers,
To eager meddlers and arrangers,
To bellboys, beggars, wishful waiters,
To vacuum-cleaning demonstrators;
To grimy boys inquiring “Shine?”;
To invitations out to dine
Where all the guests are put to shame
Unless they love the Parlor Game;
To hairdressers who drop you hints
About a vegetable rinse;
To friends of friends of friends from Reno
Who yearn to see the French Casino;
To hostesses who’d show you views
They took upon their Southern Cruise;
Chain letters; histrionic pleas
For sweet but dubious charities;
Insurance agents under full sail,
And people who can get it “whulsale.”

Say “No” to them (and do not budge)
Who’d make you Honorary Judge.
 Cry “No” from dusk till dawn —
Of all glad words pronounced or printed,
The noblest phrase that ever glinted
 In youth’s bright lexicon.
And when your tongue can turn it,
I wish you’d help me learn it.