When I was a young man, I loved to write poems <br />And I called a spade a spade <br />And the only only thing that made me sing <br />Was to lift the masks at the masquerade. <br />I took them off my own face, <br />I took them off others too <br />And the only only wrong in all my song <br />Was the view that I knew what was true. <br /> <br /> <br />Now I am older and tireder too <br />And the tasks with the masks are quite trying. <br />I’d gladly gladly stop if I only only knew <br />A better way to keep from lying, <br />And not get nervous and blue <br />When I said something quite untrue: <br />I looked all around and all over <br />To find something else to do: <br />I tried to be less romantic <br />I tried to be less starry-eyed too: <br />But I only got mixed up and frantic <br />Forgetting what was false and what was true. <br /> <br /> <br />But tonight I am going to the masked ball, <br />Because it has occurred to me <br />That the masks are more true than the faces: <br />—Perhaps this too is poetry? <br />I no longer yearn to be naïve and stern <br />And masked balls fascinate me: <br />Now that I know that most falsehoods are true <br />Perhaps I can join the charade? <br />This is, at any rate, my new and true view: <br />Let live and believe, I say. <br />The only only thing is to believe in everything: <br />It’s more fun and safer that way!<br /><br />Delmore Schwartz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-foggy-foggy-blue/
