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.
Return to the Emily Dickinson Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; My Life Closed Twice Before it Closed