New at IWP Books: Phyllis McGinley, 1934, On the Contrary.

Song From Town

If I were in the mountains, now,
 That bred and nourished me,
The wind would tease the aspen bough
 To cool hilarity.

In colored canyons, I could learn
 Steadfastness from a pine,
And fill my hands with leaves and fern
 And roving columbine.

I’d have no need to shut the sun
 From windows facing south.
Down every slope would coolness run
 To kiss me on the mouth.

O, hills desired! But this is how
 Perverse I am, and queer.
If I were in the mountains, now,
 I’d wish that I were here.