Things aren’t always what they seem. That’s the lesson for one of this week’s poems that I really enjoyed. In truth, I’d read it before, but I enjoy reading it every time. I’m talking about “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 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 everythingTo 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.