Noble

And I think I am gone mad

As gently as a summer dusk
That stills all the cuckoos
Save those still in my head
And look at me all you will
This malady cannot be seen
For I hide it behind a smile
And if myth can become history
Noble facts and nascent faith
Rise to the pinnacle of greatness
Then I am glad I have gone mad
And to think this all a dream
Else be unhinged upon waking
And so be made mad by circumstance