Birthday Verses, 1906
Dear Aldrich, now November's mellow daysHave brought another Festa round to you,You can't refuse a loving-cup of praiseFrom friends the fleeting years have bound to you.
Here come your Marjorie Daw, your dear Bad Boy,Prudence, and Judith the Bethulian,And many more, to wish you birthday joy,And sunny hours, and sky cerulean!
Your children all, they hurry to your den,With wreaths of honour they have won for you,To merry-make your threescore years and ten.You, old? Why, life has just begun for you!
There's many a reader whom your silver songsAnd crystal stories cheer in loneliness.What though the newer writers come in throngs?You're sure to keep your charm of only-ness.
You do your work with careful, loving touch,--An artist to the very core of you,--You know the magic spell of "not-too-much":We read,--and wish that there was more of you.
And more there is: for while we love your booksBecause their subtle skill is part of you;We love you better, for our friendship looksBehind them to the human heart of you.
Words in this poem
- sunny a.
- Of or pertaining to the sun; proceeding from, or resembling the sun; hence, shining; bright; brilliant; radiant.
- cerulean a.
- Sky-colored; blue; azure. [L. caeruleus.]
- honour n.
- Esteem due or paid to worth; high estimation; respect; consideration; reverence; veneration; manifestation of respect or reverence. [OE. honor, honour, onour, onur, OF. honor, onor, honur, onur, honour, onour, F. honneur, fr. L. honor, honos.]
- loneliness n.
- The condition of being lonely; solitude; seclusion.
- artist n.
- One who practices some mechanic art or craft; an artisan. [F. artiste, LL. artista, fr. L. ars. See Art, n., and cf. Artiste.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Birthday Verses, 1906 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, Birthday Verses, 1906, in The Poems of Henry Van Dyke (1925), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16229, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/van-dyke-poems/birthday-verses-1906.html, id L22963.
Form and metre
Birthday Verses, 1906 is 24 lines in 6 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 91%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
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 ABAB daysA · youB · praiseA · youB
- 2 ABAB boyA · bethulianB · joyA · ceruleanB
- 3 ABAB denA · youB · tenA · youB
- 4 ABAB songsA · lonelinessB · throngsA · nessB
- 5 ABAB touchA · youB · muchA · youB
- 6 ABAB booksA · youB · looksA · youB
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Dear Aldrich, now November's mellow days | 10 | ·/˘·˘/˘/˘· |
| Have brought another Festa round to you, | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| You can't refuse a loving-cup of praise | 10 | ··˘/·/˘··· |
| From friends the fleeting years have bound to you. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Here come your Marjorie Daw, your dear Bad Boy, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Prudence, and Judith the Bethulian, | 9 | /˘·/˘···· |
| And many more, to wish you birthday joy, | 10 | ·/˘····/·· |
| And sunny hours, and sky cerulean! | 11 | ·/˘/˘··˘/˘˘ |
| Your children all, they hurry to your den, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| With wreaths of honour they have won for you, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| To merry-make your threescore years and ten. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| You, old? Why, life has just begun for you! | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| There's many a reader whom your silver songs | 10 | ·/·/˘··/˘· |
| And crystal stories cheer in loneliness. | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘˘ |
| What though the newer writers come in throngs? | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| You're sure to keep your charm of only-ness. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| You do your work with careful, loving touch,-- | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| An artist to the very core of you,-- | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| You know the magic spell of "not-too-much": | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| We read,--and wish that there was more of you. | 10 | ·········· |
| And more there is: for while we love your books | 10 | ·········· |
| Because their subtle skill is part of you; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| We love you better, for our friendship looks | 10 | ···/˘·//˘· |
| Behind them to the human heart of you. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.