Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.026 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.

Scarborough Fair

by Francis James Child

0.3105 − 0.3759i

Drawing the boundary…

Time and Love

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

0.3205 − 0.3514i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Scarborough Fair

by Francis James Child

O where are you going? To Scarborough fair,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Remember me to one who lives there,
She once was a true love of mine.

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Without any seam or needlework,
Then she shall be a true love of mine.

Tell her to wash it in yonder dry well,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Where never a drop of water fell,
Then she shall be a true love of mine.

Tell her to dry it on yonder heath,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Where never the rain nor the dew hath scotched,
Then she shall be a true love of mine.

Have you been to Scarborough fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Remember me to one who lives there,
For once she was a true love of mine.

Tell him to find me an acre of land,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Between the salt water and the sea strand,
Then he shall be a true love of mine.

Tell him to plow it with a ram’s horn,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
And sow it all over with one peppercorn,
Then he shall be a true love of mine.

Tell him to reap it with a sickle of leather,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
And bind it all up in a bunch of heather,
Then he shall be a true love of mine.

Time and Love

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Time flies. The swift hours hurry by
And speed us on to untried ways;
New seasons ripen, perish, die,
And yet love stays.
The old, old love — like sweet, at first,
At last like bitter wine —
I know not if it blest or curst
Thy life and mine.

Time flies. In vain our prayers, our tears!
We cannot tempt him to delays;
Down to the past he bears the years,
And yet love stays.
Through changing task and varying dream
We hear the same refrain,
As one can hear a plaintive theme
Run through each strain.

Time flies. He steals our pulsing youth;
He robs us of our care-free days;
He takes away our trust and truth:
And yet love stays.
O Time! take love! When love is vain,
When all its best joys die —
When only its regrets remain —
Let love, too, fly.

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