If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight, —
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.
If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.
If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair, —
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.
E. E. Cummings
