Post Hoc Ergo

It isn't hard to recognize why I
In my main madness, love. It is but right,
That seeing, as with some strange second sight,
I ought to see her beauty when I try.
Why should you think it otherwise, or why
Would you assume, because my mind is light,
I cannot see her loveliness, despite
Its glaring obviousness, and so sigh?
No, no, my madness takes a different form:
It is the craze of too much joy at once.
I have still wit enough to keep me warm,
And cogitate quite past the common dunce.
I am stark mad with love; but with means from
And so love's cause is reasoned, and not dumb.