Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.011 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.

Ring out your bells

by Sir Philip Sidney

−0.2158 − 0.3692i

Drawing the boundary…

Commencement

by Theodore Henry Shackelford

−0.2082 − 0.3767i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Ring out your bells

by Sir Philip Sidney

Ring out your bells, let mourning shows be spread;
For Love is dead.
All Love is dead, infected
With plague of deep disdain:
Worth, as nought worth, rejected,
And Faith fair scorn doth gain.
From so ungrateful fancy,
From such a female franzy,
From them that use men thus,
Good Lord, deliver us!

Weep, neighbors, weep! do you not hear it said
That Love is dead?
His death-bed, peacock's folly;
His winding-sheet is shame;
His will, false-seeming holy;
His sole executor blame.
From so ungrateful fancy,
From such a female franzy,
From them that use men thus,
Good Lord, deliver us!

Let dirge be sung and trentals rightly read,
For Love is dead.
Sir Wrong his tomb ordaineth
My mistress' marble heart,
Which epitaph containeth:
"Her eyes were once his dart."
From so ungrateful fancy,
From such a female franzy,
From them that use men thus,
Good Lord, deliver us!

Alas, I lie! rage hath this error bred.
Love is not dead.
Love is not dead, but sleepeth
In her unmatchëd mind,
Where she his counsel keepeth
Till due desert she find.
Therefore from so vile fancy,
To call such wit a franzy,
Who Love can temper thus,
Good Lord, deliver us!

Commencement

by Theodore Henry Shackelford

Commencement is a day of dreams,
Of castles grand, of murm'ring streams,
Of cities fair, where roses grow,
Of summer clouds, where breezes blow,
And this, the wish I bring to you,
May all your noble dreams come true!

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