*Richard Cory*

~By: Edwin Arlington Robinson~

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean and 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 one we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without meat, and cursed the bread
And Richard Cory, on one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.