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| unbleachedblond (profile) wrote, on 4-11-2005 at 11:31pm | |
| Current mood: thoughtful |
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| 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. **this is one of the most thought-provoking poems i have ever read. every single one of us can relate to it. we all hide behind masks, and then when something causes us to blow up as a result of all the built up pressure, everyone acts surprised. its crazy. what a damn good poem. this might actually be a fun paper to write. thanks justin!** |
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jburt1 | 04-12-05 7:02pm I'm glad you enjoy it! G/L with the paper! |