If

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