Richard Cory was my friend
and all of us in love with him
were smitten on the third week's end:
he flew away like dust in wind.
Eyes that spoke of peace denied
and emptiness where hope should hide
and grace alone could not abide
the many, many nights he died.
Curse the year and curse the day
of birth and snakes and Adam's way
and all who look behind and say,
"What if?" "Why me?" or, "Let us pray."
Tears were made to bless the eye;
prayer was made to bless the sky.
Weep and sing and laugh and cry--
it's appointed unto man to die.
Despair's the price of Eden's pride
or if a sovereign Will presides,
pain's as deep as blame is wide,
(c) Steve Pruitt 2005
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Okay, I'm always embarassed to admit that I actually write poetry--I fear it damages my manly image... Anyway, I wrote this the other night, in reference to Robbie Oyler in particular, but to suicide in general. Don't worry, I'm not suicidal, just melancholy lately. Richard Cory is a character from 1890-1897 created by Edwin Arlington Robinson. You can read his poem here.