The Echo in the Heart
It's little I can tellAbout the birds in books;And yet I know them well,By their music and their looks:When May comes down the lane,Her airy lovers throngTo welcome her with song,And follow in her train:Each minstrel weaves his partIn that wild-flowery strain,And I know them all againBy their echo in my heart.
It's little that I careAbout my darling's placeIn books of beauty rare,Or heraldries of race:For when she steps in view,It matters not to meWhat her sweet type may be,Of woman, old or new.I can't explain the art,But I know her for my own,Because her lightest toneWakes an echo in my heart.
About this text
The Echo in the Heart 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, The Echo in the Heart, in The Poems of Henry Van Dyke (1925), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16229, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/van-dyke-poems/the-echo-in-the-heart.html, id L22807.
Form and metre
The Echo in the Heart is 24 lines in 2 stanzas of 12 lines each. The metre is iambic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%).
See other poems in iambic trimeter.
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 ABABCDDCECCE tellA · booksB · wellA · looksB · laneC · throngD · songD · trainC · partE · strainC · againC · heartE
- 2 ABABCDDCEFFE careA · placeB · rareA · raceB · viewC · meD · beD · newC · artE · ownF · toneF · heartE
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 trimeter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| It's little I can tell | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| About the birds in books; | 6 | ······ |
| And yet I know them well, | 6 | ······ |
| By their music and their looks: | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| When May comes down the lane, | 6 | ······ |
| Her airy lovers throng | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| To welcome her with song, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And follow in her train: | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Each minstrel weaves his part | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| In that wild-flowery strain, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And I know them all again | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| By their echo in my heart. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| It's little that I care | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| About my darling's place | 6 | ···/˘· |
| In books of beauty rare, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Or heraldries of race: | 6 | ·/˘˘·· |
| For when she steps in view, | 6 | ······ |
| It matters not to me | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| What her sweet type may be, | 6 | ······ |
| Of woman, old or new. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| I can't explain the art, | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| But I know her for my own, | 7 | ······· |
| Because her lightest tone | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Wakes an echo in my heart. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
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.