Edwin Arlington Robinson

(22 December 1869 – 6 April 1935 / Maine / United States)

Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems

81. Late Summer 1/3/2003
82. The Master 1/3/2003
83. Two Gardens In Linndale 1/3/2003
84. The Garden 1/3/2003
85. Three Quatrains 1/3/2003
86. Monadnock Through The Trees 1/3/2003
87. Lancelot 1/3/2003
88. Captain Craig 1/3/2003
89. Merlin 1/3/2003
90. On The Way 1/3/2003
91. Octaves 1/3/2003
92. Villanelle Of Change 1/3/2003
93. Sonnet 1/3/2003
94. The Flying Dutchman 1/3/2003
95. Exit 1/3/2003
96. The Poor Relation 1/3/2003
97. The Burning Book 1/3/2003
98. The Wilderness 1/3/2003
99. Old King Cole 1/3/2003
100. Credo 1/3/2003
101. Cassandra 1/3/2003
102. John Gorham 1/3/2003
103. Two Quatrains 1/3/2003
104. The Torrent 1/3/2003
105. The Story Of The Ashes And The Flame 1/3/2003
106. Pasa Thalassa Thalassa 1/3/2003
107. The Dark House 1/3/2003
108. Sainte-Nitouche 1/3/2003
109. The Sage 1/3/2003
110. Her Eyes 1/3/2003
111. Veteran Sirens 1/3/2003
112. Twilight Song 1/3/2003
113. The Companion 1/3/2003
114. Leonora 1/3/2003
115. Verlaine 1/3/2003
116. The Rat 1/3/2003
117. Supremacy 1/3/2003
118. The Clerks 1/3/2003
119. John Brown 1/3/2003
120. The Dead Village 1/3/2003

Comments about Edwin Arlington Robinson

  • Christopher Gozdava (1/11/2012 1:20:00 PM)

    The poem A Happy Man is an example for me of poorly sounding, but a metrically correct poem. One more proof that it is not a form but a final pleasing outcome that makes any art valuable.

    28 person liked.
    30 person did not like.
Best Poem of Edwin Arlington Robinson

Richard Cory

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 ...

Read the full of Richard Cory

Veteran Sirens

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.

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