| Carl Sandburg (1878–1967). Chicago Poems. 1916. |
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| 33. To Certain Journeymen |
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| UNDERTAKERS, hearse drivers, grave diggers, | |
| I speak to you as one not afraid of your business. | |
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| You handle dust going to a long country, | |
| You know the secret behind your job is the same whether you lower the coffin with modern, automatic machinery, well-oiled and noiseless, or whether the body is laid in by naked hands and then covered by the shovels. | |
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| Your day’s work is done with laughter many days of the year, | 5 |
| And you earn a living by those who say good-by today in thin whispers. | |
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