Edwin Arlington Robinson
Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems
|161.||The Children Of The Night||1/3/2003|
|162.||Ballad Of Broken Flutes||1/3/2003|
|166.||Ballad Of Dead Friends||1/3/2003|
|168.||An Old Story||1/3/2003|
|169.||The House On The Hill||1/3/2003|
|170.||Another Dark Lady||1/3/2003|
|171.||Ballad By The Fire||1/3/2003|
|173.||Mr. Flood's Party||1/3/2003|
|174.||A Happy Man||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 ...
“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.”