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Anyone Know the Poem I'm Talking About?


AFriendlyFace

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Ok so first off I'm really not depressed or anything, but I've been trying to remember the name of this poem that deals with suicide. I read it my Junior year of High School so I think it was in American Lit. It was all about this guy, and I think they kept using his name in the poem. It kept talking about how much everyone liked him and how successful he was etc. etc. then in the last line it went something like:

 

and ____ went home and shot himself in the head today

 

Also I think there may have been something about a hat :blink:

 

Anyway I just really liked that poem and I've been trying to remember the name of it for a couple of years now (not continuously trying to remember obviously or I'd have gone around the bend by now :P )

 

So does anyone know what I'm talking about??

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I know, I know! :D

 

The poem is called Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson

 

I read it in high school too and its still one of my favorites. I think Simon and Garfunkel did a song about it too...

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I know, I know! :D

 

The poem is called Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson

 

I read it in high school too and its still one of my favorites. I think Simon and Garfunkel did a song about it too...

 

Right on both:

 

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 without the meat, and cursed the bread;

And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.

 

-- Edwin Arlington Robinson

 

 

They say that Richard Cory owns one half of this whole town

With political connections to spread his wealth around

Born into society, a banker's only child

He had everything a man could want: power, grace, and style

 

But I work in his factory

And I curse the life I'm living

And I curse my poverty

And I wish that I could be

Oh I wish that I could be

Oh I wish that I could be

Richard Cory

 

The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes

Richard Cory at the opera, Richard Cory at a show

And the rumor of his parties and the orgies on his yacht!

Oh he surely must be happy with everything he's got

 

But I, I work in his factory

And I curse the life I'm living

And I curse my poverty

And I wish that I could be

Oh I wish that I could be

Oh I wish that I could be

Richard Cory

 

He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch

And they were grateful for his patronage and they thanked him very much

So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read:

"Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head"

 

But I, I work in his factory

And I curse the life I'm living

And I curse my poverty

And I wish that I could be

Oh I wish that I could be

Oh I wish that I could be

Richard Cory

 

-- Paul Simon, 1966 - on the Sounds of Silence album

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That was one of my favorite poems from high school, too, and that was even before the song.

 

In that fog of time, I had forgotten that it was by Robinson and not from Masters' "Spoon River Anthology."

 

Coincidentally, I just received email from an old friend from whom I rarely hear. He doesn't communicate much with people from his past partly because he considers himself such a great failure. I've always envied him, and his life sounds nearly perfect to me. Also, coincidentally, the message, while needling humor, concerned my potential epitaph.

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