(2002-04-01 - 7:50 p.m.)
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A poem by E.A. Robinson.
Whenever Richard Cory went down town
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from soul to crown,
Clean, favoured, and imperially slim.
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good Morning" and he glittered while 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 meat and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
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I just loved that poem. Firstly, it's a lesson that the grass is NOT always greener on the other side. Secondly, wealth does not always equal hapiness. Thirdly, people are not always what they seem...
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