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.

Response:
I think this poem was better than “The Purpose of Writing” because this poem had more rhythm than the other one. It had more alliteration to it. Also more onomatopoeias to it. What I learned about this poem is how the people were so caught up in his light or moment and how the people loved his smile and clothes, that they didn’t get to see who he really was. Which is the saying don’t judge a book by its cover. The people thought that he is richer than a king, but in his life he could probably have nothing.