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Delmore Schwartz - The Foggy, Foggy Blue
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When I was a young man, I loved to write poems 
         And I called a spade a spade 
And the only only thing that made me sing 
         Was to lift the masks at the masquerade. 
I took them off my own face, 
         I took them off others too 
And the only only wrong in all my song 
         Was the view that I knew what was true. 


Now I am older and tireder too 
         And the tasks with the masks are quite trying. 
I’d gladly gladly stop if I only only knew 
         A better way to keep from lying, 
And not get nervous and blue 
         When I said something quite untrue: 
I looked all around and all over 
         To find something else to do: 
I tried to be less romantic 
         I tried to be less starry-eyed too: 
But I only got mixed up and frantic 
         Forgetting what was false and what was true. 


But tonight I am going to the masked ball, 
         Because it has occurred to me 
That the masks are more true than the faces: 
         —Perhaps this too is poetry? 
I no longer yearn to be naïve and stern 
         And masked balls fascinate me: 
Now that I know that most falsehoods are true 
         Perhaps I can join the charade? 
This is, at any rate, my new and true view: 
         Let live and believe, I say. 
The only only thing is to believe in everything: 
         It’s more fun and safer that way!
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