Edwin Arlington Robinson

(22 December 1869 – 6 April 1935 / Maine / United States)

Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems

1. Why He Was There 11/26/2014
2. Horace To Leuconoë 1/3/2003
3. Tasker Norcross 1/3/2003
4. Momus 1/3/2003
5. The Return Of Morgan And Fingal 1/3/2003
6. Erasmus 1/3/2003
7. Fragment 1/3/2003
8. Job The Rejected 1/3/2003
9. The Old King's New Jester 1/3/2003
10. Lazarus 1/3/2003
11. Demos 1/3/2003
12. Nimmo 1/3/2003
13. Inferential 1/3/2003
14. Leffingwell 1/3/2003
15. Lingard And The Stars 1/3/2003
16. Llewellyn And The Tree 1/3/2003
17. The Revealer 1/3/2003
18. Isaac And Archibald 1/3/2003
19. Lisette And Eileen 1/3/2003
20. Rahel To Varnhagen 1/3/2003
21. Theophilus 1/3/2003
22. The Sunken Crown 1/3/2003
23. L'Envoy 1/3/2003
24. Discovery 1/3/2003
25. The New Tenants 1/3/2003
26. Lost Anchors 1/3/2003
27. The Whip 1/3/2003
28. The Altar 1/3/2003
29. Recalled 1/3/2003
30. For Some Poems By Matthew Arnold 1/3/2003
31. The Chorus Of Old Men In Aegus 1/3/2003
32. The Klondike 1/3/2003
33. Clavering 1/3/2003
34. Two Octaves 1/3/2003
35. The Book Of Annandale 1/3/2003
36. The Tree In Pamela's Garden 1/3/2003
37. The World 1/3/2003
38. The Pilot 1/3/2003
39. The White Lights 1/3/2003
40. The Corridor 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Edwin Arlington Robinson

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 ...

Read the full of Richard Cory

Veteran Sirens

The ghost of Ninon would be sorry now
To laugh at them, were she to see them here,
So brave and so alert for learning how
To fence with reason for another year.

Age offers a far comelier diadem
Than theirs; but anguish has no eye for grace,
When time’s malicious mercy cautions them
To think a while of number and of space.

[Hata Bildir]