Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.025 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.

My Orcha'd in Linden Lea

by William Barnes

0.0328 − 0.3462i

Drawing the boundary…

Thou Lovest No More

by Thomas Moore

0.0488 − 0.3655i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

My Orcha'd in Linden Lea

by William Barnes

'Ithin the woodlands, flow'ry gleaded,
By the woak tree's mossy moot,
The sheenèn grass-bleädes, timber-sheäded,
Now do quiver under voot;
An' birds do whissle over head,
An' water's bubblèn in its bed,
An' there vor me the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

When leaves that leately wer a-springen
Now do feade 'ithin the copse,
An' païnted birds do hush their zingèn
Up upon the timber's tops;
An' brown-leav'd fruit's a-turnèn red,
In cloudless zunsheen, over head,
Wi' fruit vor me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

Let other vo'k meake money vaster
In the air o' dark-room'd towns,
I don't dread a peevish meäster;
Though noo man do heed my frowns,
I be free to goo abrode,
Or teake agean my hwomeward road
To where, vor me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

Thou Lovest No More

by Thomas Moore

Too plain, alas, my doom is spoken
  Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er;
Thy heart is changed, thy vow is broken,
  Thou lovest no more—thou lovest no more.

Tho' kindly still those eyes behold me,
  The smile is gone, which once they wore;
Tho' fondly still those arms enfold me,
  'Tis not the same—thou lovest no more.

Too long my dream of bliss believing,
  I've thought thee all thou wert before;
But now—alas! there's no deceiving,
  'Tis all too plain, thou lovest no more.

Oh, thou as soon the dead couldst waken,
  As lost affection's life restore,
Give peace to her that is forsaken,
  Or bring back him who loves no more.

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