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"Richard Cory "- Poem By EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON

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Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich — yes, richer than a king —
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.


About the Poet
EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON (1869-1935)
Born and raised in a small town in Maine, the American poet Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935) won three Pulitzer Prizes for his poetry. His narrative poems feature characters that are often sensitive, frustrated, and miserable, and even his more lyrical work suggests a kind of quiet disturbance. After his family lost their fortune, Robinson scraped by for years before achieving financial independence.
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