|
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, |
5 |
| 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: |
10 |
| 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 without the meat, and cursed the bread; |
|
| And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, |
15 |
| Went home and put a bullet through his head. |
|
