Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.016 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.

When Bony Death

by John Masefield

−0.3378 − 0.0395i

Drawing the boundary…

A Love Dream

by James Edwin Campbell

−0.3516 − 0.0320i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

When Bony Death

by John Masefield

When bony Death has chilled her gentle blood,
And dimmed the brightness of her wistful eyes,
And changed her glorious beauty into mud
By his old skill in hateful wizardries;

When an old lichened marble strives to tell
How sweet a grace, how red a lip was hers;
When rheumy grey-beards say, “I knew her well,”
Showing the grave to curious worshippers;

When all the roses that she sowed in me
Have dripped their crimson petals and decayed,
Leaving no greenery on any tree
That her dear hands in my heart’s garden laid,

Then grant, old Time, to my green mouldering skull,
These songs may keep her memory beautiful.

A Love Dream

by James Edwin Campbell

I know 'twas a dream, yet sweet was the theme,
And I strive to recall its splendor—
My soul upward leaps as Thought backward sweeps
To my dream so warm and so tender.

Where sea billows toss 'neath the bright Southern cross,
By the sea lay I idly dreaming,
While the stars burned a way from Night unto Day
And the waves like helmets were gleaming.

A maid came and stood at the neck of the wood
And her locks on the Night were streaming,
She was tall as pines that rock in the winds,
And her eyes like Orion were gleaming.

She came to me there and caught up her hair
And spread it a mantle above me—
O my soul grew sick and the hot air thick
As she whispered: "Come sweet, now love me."

I kissed the red mouth of th' passionate South,
Till my lips with kissing grew husky,
I looked in the eyes that were storm-charged skies,
'Neath the cloud of her thick locks dusky.

Then up the Day came with cohorts of flame
And the Soul of the South Wind left me,
And Joy fled away with the Rise of the Day,
For Day, of my Love had bereft me.

I know 'twas a dream, yet sweet was the theme,
And I strive to recall its splendor—
My soul upward leaps as Thought backward sweeps
To my dream so warm and so tender.

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