The Leaders of the Crowd
They must to keep their certainty accuse
All that are different of a base intent
Pull down established honour; hawk of news
Whatever their loose phantasy invent
And murmur it with bated breayh , as though
The abounding gutter had been Helicon
Or calumny a song . How can they know
Truth flourishes where the student’s lamp has shone ,
And there alone , that have no solitude?
So the crowd come they care not what may come.
They have loud music , hope every day renewed
And heartier loves ; that lamp is from the tomb.
W.B.Yeats
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