Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.031 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.

Kyrenaikos

by Alan Seeger

−0.4325 + 0.6847i

Drawing the boundary…

The Dungeon

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

−0.4055 + 0.7005i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Kyrenaikos

by Alan Seeger

Lay me where soft Cyrene rambles down
In grove and garden to the sapphire sea;
Twine yellow roses for the drinker's crown;
Let music reach and fair heads circle me,
Watching blue ocean where the white sails steer
Fruit-laden forth or with the wares and news
Of merchant cities seek our harbors here,
Careless how Corinth fares, how Syracuse;
But here, with love and sleep in her caress,
Warm night shall sink and utterly persuade
The gentle doctrine Aristippus bare, —
Night-winds, and one whose white youth's loveliness,
In a flowered balcony beside me laid,
Dreams, with the starlight on her fragrant hair.

The Dungeon

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

And this place our forefathers made for man!
This is the process of our love and wisdom,
To each poor brother who offends against us—
Most innocent, perhaps—and what if guilty?
Is this the only cure? Merciful God!
Each pore and natural outlet shrivel’d up
By Ignorance and parching Poverty,
His energies roll back upon his heart,
And stagnate and corrupt; till chang’d to poison,
They break out on him, like a loathsome plague-spot;
Then we call in our pamper’d mountebanks—
And this is their best cure! uncomforted
And friendless solitude, groaning and tears,
And savage faces, at the clanking hour,
Seen through the steams and vapor of his dungeon,
By the lamp’s dismal twilight! So he lies
Circled with evil, till his very soul
Unmolds its essence, hopelessly deform’d
By sights of evermore deformity!

With other ministrations thou, O Nature!
Healest thy wandering and distemper’d child:
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets,
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters,
Will he relent, and can no more endure
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing,
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
His angry spirit heal'd and harmoniz’d
By the benignant touch of Love and Beauty.

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