| "Whenever Richard Cory went down town, | |
| We people on the pavement looked at him: | |
| He was a gentleman from sole to crown, | |
| Clean favoured, 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." |