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Mr. Flood's Party
If you are of a certain age, you may be familiar with Edwin Arlington Robinson from a Simon and Garfunkel song, "Richard Cory." The words of the song were changed somewhat from what Robinson wrote but it still ended with the same shocking, brutal conclusion. Here’s the whole poem:
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.
Edwin Arlington Robinson grew up in Gardiner, Maine, but spent part of his career in the Village, residing at 51 Washington Square South, 121 Washington Place and 28 W. 8th Street. December 22 is his birthday.
The other Edwin Arlington Robinson poem that made an impression on me, for obvious reasons, was "Mr. Flood’s Party."
My parties are nothing like Mr. Flood's.