Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.030 apart. A smaller distance means the lines are built more alike.

This number is read from the build of the lines. The bright edge is that number, carried outward until the pattern repeats.

Your Looks so Often Cast

by Sir Thomas Wyatt

0.4346 − 0.7987i

Drawing the boundary…

Solitude

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

0.4550 − 0.7773i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

Each poem scrolls on its own, so the two texts stay beside each other.

Your Looks so Often Cast

by Sir Thomas Wyatt

Your looks so often cast,
Your eyes so friendly rolled,
Your sight fixëd so fast,
Always one to behold:
Though hide it fain ye would,
It plainly doth declare
Who hath your heart in hold,
And where good will ye bear.

Fain would ye find a cloak
Your burning fire to hide:
Yet both the flame and smoke
Breaks out on every side.
Ye can not love so guide
That it no issue win;
Abroad needs must it glide,
That burns so hot within.

For cause your self do wink
Ye judge all other blind,
And secret it you think
Which every man doth find.
In waste oft spend ye wind
Your self in love to quit:
For agues of that kind
Will show who hath the fit.

Your sighs you fetch from far,
And all to wry your woe;
Yet are ye ne'er the narre:
Men are not blinded so.
Deeply oft swear ye no,
But all those oaths are vain
So well your eye doth show
Who put your heart to pain.

Think not, therefore, to hide
That still itself betrays;
Nor seek means to provide
To dark the sunny days.
Forget those wonted ways;
Leave off such frowning cheer;
There will be found no stays
To stop a thing so clear.

Solitude

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth
Must borrow its mirth,
It has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound
To a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure
Of all your pleasure,
But they do not want your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all;
There are none to decline
Your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by;
Succeed and give,
And it helps you live,
But it cannot help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train;
But one by one
We must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

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