"He is mad as a hare, poor fellow, And should be in chains," you say. I have n't a doubt of your statement, But who is n't mad, I pray? Why, the world is a great asylum, And people are all insane, Gone daft with pleasure or folly, Or crazed with passion and pain. The infant who shrieks at a shadow, The child with his Santa Claus faith, The woman who worships Dame Fashion, Each man with his notions of death, The miser who hoards up his earnings, The spendthrift who wastes them too soon, The scholar grown blind in his delving, The lover who stares at the moon. The poet who thinks life a paean, The cynic who thinks it a fraud, The youth who goes seeking for pleasure, The preacher who dares talk of God, All priests with their creeds and their croaking, All doubters who dare to deny, The gay who find aught to wake laughter, The sad who find aught worth a sigh, Whoever is downcast or solemn, Whoever is gleeful and glad, Are only the dupes of delusions -- We are all of us -- all of us mad. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON DONNE'S POETRY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE GROVES OF BLARNEY by RICHARD ALFRED MILLIKIN FOR A DEAD LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON AURORA by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) A STREET SKETCH by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 5. OF TEMPERANCE by WILLIAM BASSE PSALM 45 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE HERITAGE by LAURA HELENA BROWER THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: COMPENSATION by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |