Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Lines To A Garbage Man

I hope there waits a heaven,
When they are dead and gone,
For all the sleepy people,
Who rise before the dawn
To work while we sleep on.

I like to think that heaven
Has couches soft with silk
Awaiting patient horses
And men who leave the milk,
And others of their ilk.

Oh yes, somewhere in heaven
There open dawnlike doors
To railroad men and farmers
And people who scrub floors
And those who open stores.

A silent, tiptoed angel
Will smile to watch these men
Turn off their gold alarm-clocks,
Yawn happily, and then
Go back to sleep again.


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