Little park that I pass through, <br />I carry off a piece of you <br />Every morning hurrying down <br />To my work-day in the town; <br />Carry you for country there <br />To make the city ways more fair. <br />I take your trees, <br />And your breeze, <br />Your greenness, <br />Your cleanness, <br />Some of your shade, some of your sky, <br />Some of your calm as I go by; <br />Your flowers to trim <br />The pavements grim; <br />Your space for room in the jostled street <br />And grass for carpet to my feet. <br />Your fountains take and sweet bird calls <br />To sing me from my office walls. <br />All that I can see <br />I carry off with me. <br />But you never miss my theft, <br />So much treasure you have left. <br />As I find you, fresh at morning, <br />So I find you, home returning -- <br />Nothing lacking from your grace. <br />All your riches wait in place <br />For me to borrow <br />On the morrow. <br /> <br />Do you hear this praise of you, <br />Little park that I pass through?<br /><br />Helen Hoyt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ellis-park/
