New at IWP Books: Margaret Fishback, 1937, One to a Customer

River, Stay ‘way from My Door

The world is crammed with superior souls,
 Embodying every virtue.
All of them aim at lofty goals,
 And nary a one would hurt you.
All of their ilk are good and kind,
 Magnanimous, noble people,
Who turn the thoughts of the mundane mind
 To the peak of a high church steeple.
Thousands of these exist who are
Honest and bright, and better by far
Than you and I. But the fact remains
That often they give us shooting pains.

Many’s the person I do not
 Hanker to see, although I
Am quick to acknowledge they have got
 Characters pure and snowy.
Many’s the mortal I admire
 But do not prefer to be with.
Many’s the man whom I aspire
 Not to live in a tree with.
I like so many, and yet it’s true
The ones that I want for pals are few —
A half a dozen or so, not more,
To slide with me down my cellar door.

The rest — well, I wish them luck and health
 And flagons of fine old brandy.
I wish them joy and I wish them wealth
 And the best assorted candy.
But what I wish the most to achieve,
 And what I persist in hoping,
Is that at length the herd may leave
 Me to my misanthroping.
For I am a hermit mean as mud.
My heart was nipped in the well-known bud.
And I want the people I want. And never
The rest, no matter how fine and clever.