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A Ballad of Claremont Hill

Henry Van Dyke (1852–1933) · 1925

iambic tetrameter · AABCCB · 48 lines · from The Poems of Henry Van Dyke

The roar of the city is low,Muffled by new-fallen snow,And the sign of the wintry moon is small and round and still.Will you come with me to-night,To see a pleasant sightAway on the river-side, at the edge of Claremont Hill?

"And what shall we see there,But streets that are new and bare,And many a desolate place that the city is coming to fill;And a soldier's tomb of stone,And a few trees standing alone--Will you walk for that through the cold, to the edge of Claremont Hill?"

But there's more than that for me,In the place that I fain would see:There's a glimpse of the grace that helps us all to bear life's ill,A touch of the vital breathThat keeps the world from death,A flower that never fades, on the edge of Claremont Hill.

For just where the road swings round,In a narrow strip of ground,Where a group of forest trees are lingering fondly still,There's a grave of the olden time,When the garden bloomed in its prime,And the children laughed and sang on the edge of Claremont Hill.

The marble is pure and white,And even in this dim light,You may read the simple words that are written there if you will;You may hear a father tellOf the child he loved so well,A hundred years ago, on the edge of Claremont Hill.

The tide of the city has rolledAcross that bower of old,And blotted out the beds of the rose and the daffodil;But the little playmate sleeps,And the shrine of love still keepsA record of happy days, on the edge of Claremont Hill.

The river is pouring downTo the crowded, careless town,Where the intricate wheels of trade are grinding on like a mill;But the clamorous noise and strifeOf the hurrying waves of lifeFlow soft by this haven of peace on the edge of Claremont Hill.

And after all, my friend,When the tale of our years shall end,Be it long or short, or lowly or great, as God may will,What better praise could we hear,Than this of the child so dear:You have made my life more sweet, on the edge of Claremont Hill?

Words in this poem

wintry a.: Suitable to winter; resembling winter, or what belongs to winter; brumal; hyemal; cold; stormy; wintery. [AS. wintrig.]
shall v. i.: To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
fain v. t.: To be glad ; to wish or desire.
fondly adv.: Foolishly. Verstegan (1673).
olden a.: Old; ancient; as, the olden time.
playmate n.: A companion in diversions; a playfellow.
strife n.: The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

A Ballad of Claremont Hill is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Henry Van Dyke, Project Gutenberg ebook #16229; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: Henry Van Dyke, A Ballad of Claremont Hill, in The Poems of Henry Van Dyke (1925), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16229, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/van-dyke-poems/a-ballad-of-claremont-hill.html, id L22906.

Form and metre

A Ballad of Claremont Hill is 48 lines in 8 stanzas of 6 lines each. Every stanza rhymes AABCCB. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 77%).

See other poems in iambic tetrameter.

Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.

Rhyme words, stanza by stanza

The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.

1 AABCCB low^A · snow^A · still^B · night^C · sight^C · hill^B
2 AABCCB there^A · bare^A · fill^B · stone^C · alone^C · hill^B
3 AABCCB me^A · see^A · ill^B · breath^C · death^C · hill^B
4 AABCCB round^A · ground^A · still^B · time^C · prime^C · hill^B
5 AABCCB white^A · light^A · will^B · tell^C · well^C · hill^B
6 AABCCB rolled^A · old^A · daffodil^B · sleeps^C · keeps^C · hill^B
7 AABCCB down^A · town^A · mill^B · strife^C · life^C · hill^B
8 AABCCB friend^A · end^A · will^B · hear^C · dear^C · hill^B

Scansion, line by line

Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.

Line	Syl.	Stress
The roar of the city is low,	8	····/˘··
Muffled by new-fallen snow,	7	/˘··/˘·
And the sign of the wintry moon is small and round and still.	14	·····/˘·······
Will you come with me to-night,	7	·······
To see a pleasant sight	6	···/˘·
Away on the river-side, at the edge of Claremont Hill?	14	˘/··/˘·····/··
"And what shall we see there,	6	······
But streets that are new and bare,	7	·······
And many a desolate place that the city is coming to fill;	15	·/·/˘···/˘·/˘··
And a soldier's tomb of stone,	7	··/˘···
And a few trees standing alone--	8	····/˘˘/
Will you walk for that through the cold, to the edge of Claremont Hill?"	15	············/··
But there's more than that for me,	7	·······
In the place that I fain would see:	8	········
There's a glimpse of the grace that helps us all to bear life's ill,	14	··············
A touch of the vital breath	7	····/˘·
That keeps the world from death,	6	······
A flower that never fades, on the edge of Claremont Hill.	12	·/·/·····/··
For just where the road swings round,	7	·······
In a narrow strip of ground,	7	··/˘···
Where a group of forest trees are lingering fondly still,	13	····/˘··/˘/˘·
There's a grave of the olden time,	8	·····/˘·
When the garden bloomed in its prime,	9	··/˘·˘···
And the children laughed and sang on the edge of Claremont Hill.	14	··/˘·······/··
The marble is pure and white,	7	·/˘····
And even in this dim light,	7	·/˘····
You may read the simple words that are written there if you will;	15	····/˘···/˘····
You may hear a father tell	7	····/˘·
Of the child he loved so well,	7	·······
A hundred years ago, on the edge of Claremont Hill.	13	·/˘·˘/····/··
The tide of the city has rolled	9	····/˘··˘
Across that bower of old,	7	˘/·/˘··
And blotted out the beds of the rose and the daffodil;	14	·/˘········/˘·
But the little playmate sleeps,	7	··/˘/··
And the shrine of love still keeps	7	·······
A record of happy days, on the edge of Claremont Hill.	14	·˘/·/˘·····/··
The river is pouring down	7	·/˘·/˘·
To the crowded, careless town,	7	··/˘/˘·
Where the intricate wheels of trade are grinding on like a mill;	14	··/˘····/˘····
But the clamorous noise and strife	8	··/˘˘···
Of the hurrying waves of life	8	··/˘˘···
Flow soft by this haven of peace on the edge of Claremont Hill.	15	····/˘······/··
And after all, my friend,	6	······
When the tale of our years shall end,	9	····/˘···
Be it long or short, or lowly or great, as God may will,	14	······/˘······
What better praise could we hear,	7	·/˘····
Than this of the child so dear:	7	·······
You have made my life more sweet, on the edge of Claremont Hill?	14	···········/··

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