Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.033 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.

To an Unborn Pauper Child

by Thomas Hardy

−0.0585 − 0.3121i

Drawing the boundary…

Four Footprints

by Thomas Hardy

−0.0259 − 0.3150i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

To an Unborn Pauper Child

by Thomas Hardy

Breathe not, hid Heart: cease silently,
And though thy birth-hour beckons thee,
Sleep the long sleep:
The Doomsters heap
Travails and teens around us here,
And Time-Wraiths turn our songsingings to fear.

Hark, how the peoples surge and sigh,
And laughters fail, and greetings die;
Hopes dwindle; yea,
Faiths waste away,
Affections and enthusiasms numb:
Thou canst not mend these things if thou dost come.

Had I the ear of wombed souls
Ere their terrestrial chart unrolls,
And thou wert free
To cease, or be,
Then would I tell thee all I know,
And put it to thee: Wilt thou take Life so?

Vain vow! No hint of mine may hence
To theeward fly: to thy locked sense
Explain none can
Life's pending plan:
Thou wilt thy ignorant entry make
Though skies spout fire and blood and nations quake.

Fain would I, dear, find some shut plot
Of earth's wide wold for thee, where not
One tear, one qualm,
Should break the calm.
But I am weak as thou and bare;
No man can change the common lot to rare.

Must come and bide. And such are we-
Unreasoning, sanguine, visionary-
That I can hope
Health, love, friends, scope
In full for thee; can dream thou'lt find
Joys seldom yet attained by humankind!

Four Footprints

by Thomas Hardy

Here are the tracks upon the sand 
Where stood last evening she and I — 
Pressed heart to heart and hand to hand; 
The morning sun has baked them dry.

I kissed her wet face — wet with rain, 
For arid grief had burnt up tears, 
While reached us as in sleeping pain 
The distant gurgling of the weirs.

"I have married him — yes; feel that ring; 
'Tis a week ago that he put it on. …
A dutiful daughter does this thing, 
And resignation succeeds anon!

"But that I body and soul was yours
Ere he'd possession, he'll never know.
He's a confident man. 'The husband scores,'
He says, 'in the long run' ... Now, Dear, go!"

I went. And to-day I pass the spot;
It is only a smart the more to endure;
And she whom I held is as though she were not,
For they have resumed their honeymoon tour.

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