In the realisation that this poem may be set as coursework for students, I have decided to present a sensible and sober analysis.
I've read what analyses I can find by learned and intelligent critics on the web. In general, they are all such shameful and pretentious bumfodder that the writers should be strung up naked by their thumbs while orang-utans are rewarded with bananas for swinging on their testicles. Is that sensible and sober enough?
I don't believe that he's talking about a real person. Richard Cory is a projection, like Miniver Cheevy, one aspect of Edwin Arlington Robinson's own personality.
That doesn't mean that Edwin thought he was admirable, clean-favoured, and a glittering chick-magnet. It means that even if he were then he'd still have a death-wish and need to deal with the occasional impulse to blow his brains out.
Poems are usually about what it's like to be the poet. It's not always the case, but that is the strongest motivation for writing poetry.
To complicate matters a bit more, Edwin also identifies with the envious townspeople who wish they were more elegant and well-off like Richard Cory and didn't have to toil for their daily bread and suffer the deprivations of their lowly existence. It's a parable, if you like.
When you're feeling down in the dumps, it's no real help when people try to get you to snap out of it. It's no use them telling you that you look great, or that everybody loves you and wishes they were you. That doesn't stop you from wanting to bust a cap in your cerebrum. Or, if you're in a Shakespearean mood, to make yourself a quietus with a bare bodkin.
If you know somebody like Richard Cory don't let the poor bastard suffer on his own. You'll be more help if your try to alleviate his spiritual isolation, empathise with his feelings, split a joint with him and hide his pistol.
The commonest motivation for suicide is incompetence. Being admirable isn't the antidote.
Reasons for not leaving this vale of tears:
1) You have important stuff still to do.
2) Somebody loves you and needs you to be here.
3) You need to know what happens next.
This poem was first published in 1897.
The drawing is of a man-about-town in "morning dress", about 1910.
