BY EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON
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 human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.