- Nov 5, 2011
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Richard Cory
By Edwin Arlington Robinson
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.
A parody of Edwin Arlington Robinson’s ‘Richard Cory’ – “Kurdt Kobain”
KURDT KOBAIN
When ventured Kurt Cobain downtown
The Aberdeen people looked at him.
Harshly unkempt from foot to frown,
And looked as if his life was dim.
And sometimes quietly he strayed
Away from what he knew was right
And left his former life dismayed
In seeking better things despite
This habit of returning toward
the hurt that never really heals.
So Curt, being ex-generation bored,
Grew fat with grief, no longer feels
Unlike the inner voice we’ve never had.
How late we are to wonder and recall
Why styles fade, and our lonely fad
Went home and put a bullet through us all.
By Edwin Arlington Robinson
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.
A parody of Edwin Arlington Robinson’s ‘Richard Cory’ – “Kurdt Kobain”
KURDT KOBAIN
When ventured Kurt Cobain downtown
The Aberdeen people looked at him.
Harshly unkempt from foot to frown,
And looked as if his life was dim.
And sometimes quietly he strayed
Away from what he knew was right
And left his former life dismayed
In seeking better things despite
This habit of returning toward
the hurt that never really heals.
So Curt, being ex-generation bored,
Grew fat with grief, no longer feels
Unlike the inner voice we’ve never had.
How late we are to wonder and recall
Why styles fade, and our lonely fad
Went home and put a bullet through us all.
