| Carl Sandburg (1878–1967). Chicago Poems. 1916. |
| |
| 144. The Junk Man |
| |
| |
| I AM glad God saw Death | |
| And gave Death a job taking care of all who are tired of living: | |
| |
| When all the wheels in a clock are worn and slow and the connections loose | |
| And the clock goes on ticking and telling the wrong time from hour to hour | |
| And people around the house joke about what a bum clock it is, | 5 |
| How glad the clock is when the big Junk Man drives his wagon | |
| Up to the house and puts his arms around the clock and says: | |
| “You don’t belong here, | |
| You gotta come | |
| Along with me,” | 10 |
| How glad the clock is then, when it feels the arms of the Junk Man close around it and carry it away. | |
| |
|
|
|
