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The sheep came out today in force,
Flock to flock conjoining,
A league-long ribbon of grey wool
Across the city strewn;
Shambling at ease but orderly,
With ne'er so little whining,
They bleated all with moving hooves:
"We want more money, soon!"

The moment's mortgaged to the mob;
Then leave it to commotion,
Or else divide the many's mind
With strange and distant voice;
With truths become unpopular,
Or never-heard-of notion;
To know the better, say the worse
Were but a traitor's choice.

For if the vast majority
Propose the rest be helots,
Or if the whole of Tokyo
Should say the earth is flat,
Can value equal the caprice
Of democratic zealots,
And truth and justice hide below
No better ore than that?

Yet, now they are abandoning
What's not worthwhile conserving:
Exhausted, rushy, bitter land
And ragworts lately grown;
Of new and sweeter pasturage
The sheep are most deserving;
In the most trodden field remains
A space for me alone.