| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Ellis Park | | By Helen Hoyt |
| | | LITTLE park that I pass through, | |
| I carry off a piece of you | |
| Every morning hurrying down | |
| To my work-day in the town; | |
| Carry you for country there | 5 |
| To make the city ways more fair. | |
| I take your trees, | |
| And your breeze, | |
| Your greenness, | |
| Your cleanness, | 10 |
| Some of your shade, some of your sky, | |
| Some of your calm as I go by; | |
| Your flowers to trim | |
| The pavements grim; | |
| Your space for room in the jostled street | 15 |
| 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 | |
| I carry off with me. | 20 |
| 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— | |
| Nothing lacking from your grace. | 25 |
| All your riches wait in place | |
| For me to borrow | |
| On the morrow. | |
| |
| Do you hear this praise of you, | |
| Little park that I pass through? | 30 | | | |
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