People Who Must by Carl Sandburg
I PAINTED on the roof of a skyscraper.
I painted a long while and called it a dayâ€™s work.
The people on a corner swarmed and the traffic copâ€™s whistle never let up all afternoon.
They were the same as bugs, many bugs on their wayâ€”
Those people on the go or at a standstill;
And the traffic cop a spot of blue, a splinter of brass,
Where the black tides ran around him
And he kept the street. I painted a long while
And called it a dayâ€™s work.