Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.017 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 Wild Rose

by Alfred Austin

0.1354 − 0.6834i

Drawing the boundary…

Three Songs

by A. Mary F. Robinson

0.1377 − 0.7005i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

A Wild Rose

by Alfred Austin

The first wild rose in wayside hedge, 
This year I wandering see, 
I pluck, and send it as a pledge, 
My own Wild Rose, to Thee. 

For when my gaze first met thy gaze, 
We were knee-deep in June: 
The nights were only dreamier days, 
And all the hours in tune. 

I found thee, like the eglantine, 
Sweet, simple, and apart; 
And, from that hour, thy smile hath been 
The flower that scents my heart. 

And, ever since, when tendrils grace 
Young copse or weathered bole 
With rosebuds, straight I see thy face, 
And gaze into thy soul. 

A natural bud of love Thou art, 
Where, gazing down, I view, 
Deep hidden in thy fragrant heart, 
A drop of heavenly dew. 

Go, wild rose, to my Wild Rose dear; 
Bid her come swift and soon. 
O would that She were always here! 
It then were always June. 

Three Songs

by A. Mary F. Robinson

I.

A heart as deep as the sea,
A heart as vast as the sky,
Thou shouldest have given to me,
O Spirit, since I must die!

For how shall I feel and attain
The joy and the fear and the strife,
The hope of the world and the pain
In the few short years of a life?

II.

The flocks that bruise the mountain grass
Send out beneath their feet
Such thymy fragrance as they pass,
That all the fell is sweet.

Sometimes a stranger breathes thy name,
O Love of long ago!
And in my heart there leaps to flame
A long-remembered woe.

III.

Thou sentest them an angel, Lord,
Since they were precious in Thine eyes,
An angel with a flaming sword,
To drive them out of Paradise.

For thus they kept the dream of bliss,
The hope in something out of sight,
Nor ever knew how sad it is
To weary of our best delight.

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