Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.007 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 Gardener's Cat

by Patrick Reginald Chalmers

−0.4280 − 0.5360i

Drawing the boundary…

Vestigia

by Bliss Carman

−0.4354 − 0.5361i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Gardener's Cat

by Patrick Reginald Chalmers

The gardener's cat's called Mignonette, 
She hates the cold, she hates the wet, 
She sits among the hothouse flowers 
And sleeps for hours and hours and hours. 

She dreams she is a tiger fierce 
With great majestic claws that pierce. 
She sits by the hot-water pipes 
And dreams about a coat of stripes; 

And in her slumbers she will go 
And stalk the sullen buffalo, 
And when he roars across the brake 
She does not wink, she does not wake. 

It must be perfectly immense 
To dream with such magnificence. 
And pass the most inclement day 
In this indeed stupendous way. 

She dreams of India's sunny clime, 
And only wakes at dinner-time, 
And even then she does not stir 
But waits till milk is brought to her. 

How nice to be the gardener's cat. 
She troubles not for mouse or rat, 
But, when it's coming down in streams, 
She sits among the flowers and dreams. 

The gardener's cat would be the thing, 
Her dreams are so encouraging; 
She dreams that she's a tiger, yet 
She's just a cat called Mignonette!

The moral's this, my little man — 
Sleep 'neath life's hailstones when you can, 
And if you're humble in estate, 
Dream splendidly, at any rate! 

Vestigia

by Bliss Carman

I took a day to search for god,
And found Him not. But as I trod
By rocky ledge, through woods untamed,
Just where one scarlet lily flamed,
I saw His footprint in the sod.

Then suddenly, all unaware,
Far off in the deep shadows, where
A solitary hermit thrush
Sang through the holy twilight hush—
I heard His voice upon the air.

And even as I marvelled how
God gives us Heaven here and now,
In a stir of wind that hardly shook
The poplar leaves beside the brook—
His hand was light upon my brow.

At last with evening as I turned
Homeward, and thought what I had learned
And all that there was still to probe—
I caught the glory of His robe
Where the last fires of sunset burned.

Back to the world with quickening start
I looked and longed for any part
In making saving Beauty be….
And from that kindling ecstasy
I knew God dwelt within my heart.

—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
Skip to main content