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