Edwin Arlington Robinson
Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems
|42.||The Clinging Vine||1/3/2003|
|44.||The Voice Of Age||1/3/2003|
|45.||Doctor Of Billiards||1/3/2003|
|48.||The Wise Brothers||1/3/2003|
|49.||Many Are Called||1/3/2003|
|54.||The Growth Of Lorraine||1/3/2003|
|55.||The False Gods||1/3/2003|
|59.||The White Lights||1/3/2003|
|61.||The Valley Of The Shadow||1/3/2003|
|62.||Charles Carville's Eyes||1/3/2003|
|63.||The Wandering Jew||1/3/2003|
|66.||The Three Taverns||1/3/2003|
|67.||The Town Down By The River||1/3/2003|
|71.||Variations Of Greek Themes||1/3/2003|
|72.||The Tree In Pamela's Garden||1/3/2003|
|74.||The Long Race||1/3/2003|
Comments about 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 ...
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.