If you must know why I feel so sad, you must know I feel I’m going mad.
“Ridiculous,” said the picture hung. “You’re as sane as anyone.”
When to his speech I raised protest, I was cut off at my mirror’s behest.
“I see things as they are, not as they should be, and sane you are, as sane as me.”
A mirror, I said, should never talk, nor should my portrait take a walk.
That I had seen both happen that day, seemed proof that madness indeed held sway.
My end table croaked, upon this remark, “You must be sunny though things seem dark.”
“Madness in the beholder’s eye doth live, to yourself some latitude give.”
The chair beneath me agreed with a laugh “If you be mad, so am I by half!”
Surrounded thus by such happy things, I felt my heard begin to sing.
That mad am I there can be no doubt, but the company’s good while I ride it out.

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