Little park that I pass through,
I carry off a piece of you
Every morning hurrying down
To my work-day in the town;
5 Carry you for country there
To make the city ways more fair.
I take your trees,
And your breeze,
Your greenness,
10 Your cleanness
Some of your shade, some of your sky,
Some of your calm as I go by;
Your flowers to trim
The pavements grim;
15 Your space for room in the jostled¹ street
And grass for carpet to my feet.
Your fountains take and sweet bird calls
To sing me from my office walls.
All that I can see
20 I carry off with me.
But you never miss my theft,
So much treasure you have left.
As I find you, fresh at morning,
So I find you, home returning-
25 Nothing lacking from your grace.
All your riches wait in place
For me to borrow
On the morrow.
Do you hear this praise of you,
30 Little park that I pass through?