The graveness of literary theory

I have in recent time been discussing the rather dry and sometimes closed society of literary theorists. This is a group of people, most often students in my case, who think that literature is a field of science which is to be taken so serious that even academic practices like law and economics sound like a walk in the park. These students, together with philosophers, feel that it is their responsibility to always comment on everything that might be elevated to an academic level. But it is also these people who tend to see that only serious pieces of literature may be regarded as "high art". So every time a text is written about such as sex or violence it is either feminism or a tragedy. This I find most frustration since through the history of literature the ones that really stand out is drunks and idealists. So, today I want to cite a poem by Yeats, who dealt with rebellion and mysticism among other things, which clearly shows my feeling towards this strange breed of people.



THE SCHOLARS

BALD heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love's despair
To flatter beauty's ignorant ear.

They'll cough in the ink to the world's end;
Wear out the carpet with their shoes
Earning respect; have no strange friend;
If they have sinned nobody knows.
Lord, what would they say
Should their Catullus walk that way?

WBY