Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.020 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.

A Quest

by Louise Chandler Moulton

−0.3222 − 0.9578i

Drawing the boundary…

Rain on a Grave

by Thomas Hardy

−0.3404 − 0.9499i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

A Quest

by Louise Chandler Moulton

All in the summer even,
When sea and sky were bright,
As royally the sunset
Went forth to meet the night,

My Love and I were sailing
Into the shining West,
To find some Happy Island,
Some Paradise of rest.

We steered where sunset splendor
Made golden all the shore;
The rocks behind its brightness
Were cruel as before.

Within the caves sang sirens;
But there the whirlpools be:
Not there the Happy Islands,
Not there the peaceful sea.

Toward the deep mid-ocean
Tides ran and swift winds blew;
It must be there those Islands
Await the longing view.

Their shores are soft with verdure,
Their skies for ever fair,
And always is the fragrance
Of blossoms on the air.

I set our sail to seek them,
But she, my Love, drew back:
"Not yet; the night is chilly,
I fear that unknown track."

So home we sailed, at twilight,
To the familiar shore;
Turned from the golden glory,
To live the old life o'er.

We'll make no further ventures, —
For timid is my Love, —
Until fresh sailing orders
Are sent us from above.

Then past the deep mid-ocean
'Twixt life and Life we'll steer,
To land on happier islands
Than those we dreamed of here.

Rain on a Grave

by Thomas Hardy

Clouds spout upon her 
Their waters amain 
In ruthless disdain, —
Her who but lately
Had shivered with pain
As at touch of dishonour
If there had lit on her
So coldly, so straightly 
Such arrows of rain:

One who to shelter
Her delicate head 
Would quicken and quicken
Each tentative tread 
If drops chanced to pelt her
That summertime spills
In dust-paven rills 
When thunder-clouds thicken
And birds close their bills.

Would that I lay there
And she were housed here!
Or better, together
Were folded away there
Exposed to one weather
We both, — who would stray there
When sunny the day there, 
Or evening was clear 
At the prime of the year.

Soon will be growing
Green blades from her mound, 
And daisies be showing
Like stars on the ground, 
Till she form part of them — 
Ay — the sweet heart of them, 
Loved beyond measure 
With a child's pleasure
All her life's round.

Jan. 31, 1913.

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