Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.051 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.

The Death Rooms

by John Masefield

−0.6456 − 0.0300i

Drawing the boundary…

Shoes and Stockings

by A. A. Milne

−0.5950 − 0.0241i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Death Rooms

by John Masefield

My soul has many an old decaying room
Hung with the ragged arras of the past,
Where startled faces flicker in the gloom,
And horrid whispers set the cheek aghast.

Those dropping rooms are haunted by a death,
A something like a worm gnawing a brain,
That bids me heed what bitter lesson saith
The blind wind beating on the window-pane.

None dwells in those old rooms: none ever can:
I pass them through at night with hidden head;
Lock’d rotting rooms her eyes must never scan,
Floors that her blessed feet must never tread.

Haunted old rooms: rooms she must never know,
Where death-ticks knock and mouldering panels glow.

Shoes and Stockings

by A. A. Milne

There's a cavern in the mountain where the old men meet
(Hammer, hammer, hammer . . .
Hammer, hammer, hammer . . .)
They make gold slippers for my lady's feet
(Hammer, hammer, hammer . . .
Hammer, hammer, hammer . . .)
My lady is marrying her own true knight,
White her gown, and her veil is white,
But she must have slippers on her dainty feet.
Hammer, hammer, hammer . . .
Hammer.

There's a cottage by the river where the old wives meet
(Chatter, chatter, chatter . . .
Chatter, chatter, chatter . . .)

They weave gold stockings for my lady's feet
(Chatter, chatter, chatter . . .
Chatter, chatter, chatter . . .)
My lady is going to her own true man,
Youth to youth, since the world began,
But she must have stockings on her dainty feet.
Chatter, chatter, chatter . . .
Chatter.

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