First print Life XI, 11
J poem 435 | Fr poem 620
Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
’T is, the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur, — you’re straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.
The text may be used under any of the following licenses:
CREATIVE COMMONS LICENSE 4.0,
CREATIVE COMMONS LICENSE BY-SA 3.0,
CREATIVE COMMONS LICENSE 2.5.
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