Edwin Arlington Robinson

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

Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems

121. Merlin 1/3/2003
122. As A World Would Have It 1/3/2003
123. Bon Voyage 1/3/2003
124. The Man Against The Sky 1/3/2003
125. The Dead Village 1/3/2003
126. John Gorham 1/3/2003
127. The Woman And The Wife 1/3/2003
128. Exit 1/3/2003
129. Firelight 1/3/2003
130. Cassandra 1/3/2003
131. Why He Was There 11/26/2014
132. Zola 1/3/2003
133. Captain Craig 1/3/2003
134. Peace On Earth 1/3/2003
135. The Mill 1/3/2003
136. An Evangelist's Wife 1/3/2003
137. Cortège 1/3/2003
138. The Flying Dutchman 1/3/2003
139. But For The Grace Of God 1/3/2003
140. Alma Mater 1/3/2003
141. Her Eyes 1/3/2003
142. Cliff Klingenhagen 1/3/2003
143. Walt Whitman 1/3/2003
144. Ballad Of A Ship 1/3/2003
145. The Master 1/3/2003
146. Luke Havergal 1/3/2003
147. Aunt Imogen 1/3/2003
148. The Dark House 1/3/2003
149. The Rat 1/3/2003
150. For A Dead Lady 1/3/2003
151. How Annandale Went Out 1/3/2003
152. Amaryllis 1/3/2003
153. Reuben Bright 1/3/2003
154. The Dark Hills 1/3/2003
155. An Island 1/3/2003
156. Ballad Of Broken Flutes 1/3/2003
157. New England 1/3/2003
158. Credo 1/3/2003
159. Eros Turannos 1/3/2003
160. Aaron Stark 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.

    30 person liked.
    33 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

Tasker Norcross

“Whether all towns and all who live in them—
So long as they be somewhere in this world
That we in our complacency call ours—
Are more or less the same, I leave to you.
I should say less. Whether or not, meanwhile,
We’ve all two legs—and as for that, we haven’t—
There were three kinds of men where I was born:
The good, the not so good, and Tasker Norcross.
Now there are two kinds.”

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