The Song-Sparrow
There is a bird I know so well,It seems as if he must have sungBeside my crib when I was young;Before I knew the way to spellThe name of even the smallest bird,His gentle-joyful song I heard.Now see if you can tell, my dear.What bird it is that, every year,Sings "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer."
He comes in March, when winds are strong,And snow returns to hide the earth;But still he warms his heart with mirth,And waits for May. He lingers longWhile flowers fade; and every dayRepeats his small, contented lay;As if to say, we need not fearThe season's change, if love is hereWith "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer."
He does not wear a Joseph's-coatOf many colours, smart and gay;His suit is Quaker brown and gray,With darker patches at his throat.And yet of all the well-dressed throngNot one can sing so brave a song.It makes the pride of looks appearA vain and foolish thing, to hearHis "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer."
A lofty place he does not love,But sits by choice, and well at ease,In hedges, and in little treesThat stretch their slender arms aboveThe meadow-brook; and there he singsTill all the field with pleasure rings;And so he tells in every ear,That lowly homes to heaven are nearIn "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer."
I like the tune, I like the words;They seem so true, so free from art,So friendly, and so full of heart,That if but one of all the birdsCould be my comrade everywhere,My little brother of the air,I'd choose the song-sparrow, my dear,Because he'd bless me, every year,With "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer."
Words in this poem
- quaker n.
- One who quakes.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Song-Sparrow 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 Song-Sparrow, in The Poems of Henry Van Dyke (1925), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16229, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/van-dyke-poems/the-song-sparrow.html, id L22762.
Form and metre
The Song-Sparrow is 45 lines in 5 stanzas of 9 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABBACCDDD. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%).
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 ABBACCDDD wellA · sungB · youngB · spellA · birdC · heardC · dearD · yearD · cheerD
- 2 ABBACCDDD strongA · earthB · mirthB · longA · dayC · layC · fearD · hereD · cheerD
- 3 ABBACCDDD coatA · gayB · grayB · throatA · throngC · songC · appearD · hearD · cheerD
- 4 ABBACCDDD loveA · easeB · treesB · aboveA · singsC · ringsC · earD · nearD · cheerD
- 5 ABBACCDDD wordsA · artB · heartB · birdsA · everywhereC · airC · dearD · yearD · cheerD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| There is a bird I know so well, | 8 | ········ |
| It seems as if he must have sung | 8 | ········ |
| Beside my crib when I was young; | 8 | ˘/······ |
| Before I knew the way to spell | 8 | ········ |
| The name of even the smallest bird, | 8 | ···/·/˘· |
| His gentle-joyful song I heard. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Now see if you can tell, my dear. | 8 | ········ |
| What bird it is that, every year, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Sings "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer." | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| He comes in March, when winds are strong, | 8 | ········ |
| And snow returns to hide the earth; | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| But still he warms his heart with mirth, | 8 | ········ |
| And waits for May. He lingers long | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| While flowers fade; and every day | 8 | ·/··/˘˘· |
| Repeats his small, contented lay; | 8 | ˘/··˘/˘· |
| As if to say, we need not fear | 8 | ········ |
| The season's change, if love is here | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| With "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer." | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| He does not wear a Joseph's-coat | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Of many colours, smart and gay; | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| His suit is Quaker brown and gray, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| With darker patches at his throat. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And yet of all the well-dressed throng | 8 | ········ |
| Not one can sing so brave a song. | 8 | ········ |
| It makes the pride of looks appear | 8 | ······˘/ |
| A vain and foolish thing, to hear | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| His "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer." | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| A lofty place he does not love, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| But sits by choice, and well at ease, | 8 | ········ |
| In hedges, and in little trees | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| That stretch their slender arms above | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The meadow-brook; and there he sings | 8 | ·/······ |
| Till all the field with pleasure rings; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And so he tells in every ear, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| That lowly homes to heaven are near | 8 | ·/˘··/·· |
| In "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer." | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| I like the tune, I like the words; | 8 | ········ |
| They seem so true, so free from art, | 8 | ········ |
| So friendly, and so full of heart, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| That if but one of all the birds | 8 | ········ |
| Could be my comrade everywhere, | 8 | ···/·/˘· |
| My little brother of the air, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| I'd choose the song-sparrow, my dear, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| Because he'd bless me, every year, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| With "Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer." | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
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.