Classic Poem

Score not the crowd, though true at times she be
Shallow and petty, soulless and blind.
For there are moments when the crowd you see
Not as a wretched slave and venal soul,
But a kingdom — the crowd, a titan; the crowd!
You are not just with her: for in her suffering
You did not go to suffer with her — you her bard, her son!
You shunned her cursing, shunned her wailing,
You loved her from afar, suffered with her alone!
Come and blend with her, let not the moment pass by
When in her weakness she is responsive,
When from deeds evil and evil in intention,
With grievous losses she is shaken!