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Whenever Richard Cory went down town,Whenever Richard Cory went down town
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.
Whenever Richard Cory went to town, We people on the sidewalk watched him: He was a gentleman from head to toe, Well-groomed, and elegantly thin.
And he was always dressed simply, And he was always friendly when he spoke; But still he made hearts race when he said, "Good-morning," and he shone when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king— And perfectly educated in every way: In short, we thought he was everything That made us wish we were in his place.
So we kept working, hoping for better times, And went without meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and shot himself in the head.