Richard Cory
by Edward Arlington Robertson
Whenever Richard Cory went downtown,
We 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 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.
And so on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one warm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.