Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.032 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…

On and On

by Mathilde Blind

0.1086 − 0.7017i

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. 

On and On

by Mathilde Blind

By long leagues of wood and meadow
On and on we drive apace;
In the dreamy light and shadow
Veiling earth's autumnal face.

Rosy clouds are drifting o'er us,
Rooks rise parleying from their tryst,
And the road lies far before us,
Fading into amethyst.

On and on, through leagues of heather,
Deeps of scarlet beaded lane,
Like a pheasant's golden feather
Golden leaves around us rain.

On and on, where woodlands hoary,
In October's lavish fire,
Flame up with unearthly glory,
Beauteous summer's funeral pyre.

On and on, where casements blinking
Lighten into transient gules,
As the dying day in sinking
Splashes all the wayside pools.

On and on; the land grows dimmer,
And our road recedes afar;
While on either hand there glimmer
Setting sun and rising star.

Would I knew what thoughts steal o'er you,
As the long road lengthens yet:
Ah, like hope it winds before you,
And behind me like regret.

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