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 to make the city ways fairer. I take your trees, and your breeze, your greenness, 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; your space for room in the jostled street and grass for carpet to my feet. TONEExplain your