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Friday poem
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“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 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.
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Pathetic tradeoff
This poem reminds me of Randy Alcorn’s blog topic from last week on “Longing”.
He ended his column with this:
“When we see Him with our resurrected eyes, we will realize that all our lives, as we went down every dead end street pursuing what we thought we wanted, it was really Him we were searching for, longing for.
And Him alone that could ever satisfy us.”
http://randyalcorn.blogspot.com/
I’ve always loved this poem! How easy it is to spend our lives seeking a substitute for what we really need. We might look great to other people, but inside is just death.
A surprise ending. But then, suicide often is to those who remain behind.
Here’s how old I am, I didn’t realize Simon and Garfunkle’s song was based on an actual poem . . .
But I, I work in a factory . . .
I could see something like that happening to the beautiful people.
Anna Nicole?
Be careful about Brittany. She is sick and no one wants to offer REAL help.
Etc. & etc.
Richard Cory was sick of the jealousy, and thought his departure might inspire bread-cursers to write a smug poem.
It’s too bad about Mr. Cory. It’s obviously the curse of a captialistic society and penalty for being rich. If we didn’t have money we wouldn’t have suicide, of course.
Perhaps he could have saved by a big government taking all of his riches away and redistributing it to others. Isn’t that the purpose of government?
I was first introduced to this poem by a grade-school teacher, and it has always given me chills of horror–along with gratitude, because others may appear to have more than I do, but in reality I wouldn’t trade lives with anyone I know. Particularly not with “the beautiful people” because they have to try extra hard to keep looking good.
TJ, that’s brilliant. “Richard Cory” is an allegory of capitalism and the American dream. It really works, doesn’t it? The Guilded Age leads to panic and depression. The narrator is crying out for a Progressive Era! No wonder Teddy Roosevelt liked this poet.
TJ