Are only the blue-print devices
Of love, and the commonplace things.
BERKLEY COMMON
Summer broods o’er Berkley Common, o’er the fields of everlasting,
And around the common cluster homes no one would ever rent;
The people that once lived there, long have gone to other places,
Dusty heirlooms in the garrets give a clue to where they went.
Like a manuscript, all yellow, and with many things deleted,