Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.043 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 Brook

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

−0.1419 − 0.8799i

Drawing the boundary…

Oh fair enough are sky and plain

by A.E.Housman

−0.1040 − 0.8592i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Brook

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip’s farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
by many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I wind about, and in and out,
with here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silver water-break
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

Oh fair enough are sky and plain

by A.E.Housman

Oh fair enough are sky and plain,
 But I know fairer far:
Those are as beautiful again
 That in the water are;

The pools and rivers wash so clean
 The trees and clouds and air,
The like on earth was never seen,
 And oh that I were there.

These are the thoughts I often think
 As I stand gazing down
In act upon the cressy brink
 To strip and dive and drown;

But in the golden-sanded brooks
 And azure meres I spy
A silly lad that longs and looks
 And wishes he were I.

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