A Criticism of Critics

How often have the critics, trained

To look upon the sky

Through telescopes securely chained,

Forgot the naked eye.

Within the compass of their glass

Each smallest star they knew,

And not a meteor could pass

But they were looking through.

When a new planet shed its rays

Beyond their field of vision,

And simple folk ran out to gaze,

They laughed in high derision.

They railed upon the senseless throng

Who cheered the brave new light.

And yet the learned men were wrong,

The simple folk were right.

-- Robert Fuller Murray