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.

Patty of the Vale

by John Clare

−0.2532 − 0.3296i

Drawing the boundary…

Gold Song

by Nora Hopper Chesson

−0.2276 − 0.3274i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Patty of the Vale

by John Clare

Where lonesome woodlands close surrounding
Mark the spot a solitude,
And nature’s uncheck’d scenes abounding
Form a prospect wild and rude,
A cottage cheers the spot so glooming,
Hid in the hollow of the dale,
Where, in youth and beauty blooming
Lives sweet Patty of the Vale.

Gay as the lambs her cot surrounding,
Sporting wild the shades among,
O’er the hills and bushes bounding,
Artless, innocent, and young,
Fresh, as blush of morning roses
Ere the mid-day suns prevail,
Fair as lily-bud uncloses,
Blooms sweet Patty of the Vale.

Low and humble though her station,
Dress though mean she’s doom’d to wear,
Few superiors in the nation
With her beauty can compare.
What are riches?—not worth naming,
Though with some they may prevail;
Their’s be choice of wealth proclaiming,
Mine is Patty of the Vale.

Fools may fancy wealth and fortune
Join to make a happy pair,
And for such the god importune,
With full many a fruitless prayer:
I, their pride and wealth disdaining
Should my humble hopes prevail,
Happy then, would cease complaining,
Blest with Patty of the Vale.

Gold Song

by Nora Hopper Chesson

"Gold of butterflies, gold of bees, 
Gold of ragweeds and golden seas; 
Gold on gorses for kissing's sake, 
Which of these will you touch and take, 
Moirin, Moirin?" 

Golden butterfly's not for me, 
I'll ha' none o' the golden bee: 
My heart of gold shall not beat nor break, 
Though I love the gorses for kissing's sake, 
Mother, Mother! 

"Then rest you merry, through heat and cold, 
Sweet lips of cherry, sweet heart of gold; 
Yet Gold-Heart surely shall come some day 
To cry for gray wings to fly away, 
Moirin, Moirin!" 

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