Life, love and literature

Somewhere in my early years I heard the adage that one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. I am not sure if I really understood the meaning of it at the time. A simple poem by an American author illustrates this aspect of life in a way that one understands its meaning to be shockingly clear. Edwin Arlington Robinson wrote a series of poems called TILBURY TOWN PORTRAITS, similar to SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY which everyone should read at least once in a lifetime-both of them! RICHARD CORY was one of the inhabitants of Tilbury Town – a typical rich man admired, respected, and even envied by seemingly everyone in the town. The poet describes Richard’s life in a short matter of fact way that ends in a shocker! I can still remember how I felt when I read the last line of the poem. “And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, went home and put a bullet through his head.” My students and I over the years discussed the why of this unexpected development! Of course, no one ever really knows another’s reasons for suicide. It is one of life’s saddest moments in my opinion. I have noticed over the years that efforts have been made and are being made to try to call attention to this problem and catch it before it happens. There are people who volunteer and provide services to prevent this -not that it can always help! The people of Tilbury Town had no clue that Richard Cory would feel the need  to remove himself from the world. Life is tragic just as much as it is wonderful and full of promise. I am enclosing the portrait of Richard Cory. 

Richard Cory
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.