Edwin Arlington Robinson
Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems
|47.||For A Dead Lady||1/3/2003|
|49.||For Some Poems By Matthew Arnold||1/3/2003|
|55.||Horace To Leuconoë||1/3/2003|
|56.||How Annandale Went Out||1/3/2003|
|58.||Isaac And Archibald||1/3/2003|
|59.||Job The Rejected||1/3/2003|
|69.||Lingard And The Stars||1/3/2003|
|70.||Lisette And Eileen||1/3/2003|
|71.||Llewellyn And The Tree||1/3/2003|
|75.||Many Are Called||1/3/2003|
|80.||Monadnock Through The Trees||1/3/2003|
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 ...
The ghost of Ninon would be sorry now
To laugh at them, were she to see them here,
So brave and so alert for learning how
To fence with reason for another year.
Age offers a far comelier diadem
Than theirs; but anguish has no eye for grace,
When time’s malicious mercy cautions them
To think a while of number and of space.