Carl Sandburg (1878–1967). Chicago Poems. 1916.
33. To Certain Journeymen
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I speak to you as one not afraid of your business.
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.
And you earn a living by those who say good-by today in thin whispers.