The world is mixed: joy, vanity,
Exuberance, and sadness –
And all there is of sanity
Is what the world calls madness

Yet love, it bears us in the dark,
And soothes our many sorrows;
We hear it in the morning lark
That welcomes our tomorrows

The practical among us don’t
Believe in long relations;
And yet, they live for sight of love,
The slightest perturbations

That mean the ordinary has
At last, been torn asunder,
And life’s wan neolithic mass
Is pushed back down and under

The love we want to, need to feel.
It’s crazy: that I know —
But love’s the one thing we all share
And all we really know

The world is mixed: joy, vanity,
Exuberance, and sadness –
And all there is of sanity
Is what the world calls
Madness