Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.026 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.

Weariness

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

−0.2413 − 0.3947i

Drawing the boundary…

Her Sigh

by Charles Cotton

−0.2445 − 0.3691i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Weariness

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

O little feet! that such long years
Must wander on through hopes and fears,
Must ache and bleed beneath your load;
I, nearer to the wayside inn
Where toil shall cease and rest begin,
Am weary, thinking of your road!

O little hands! that, weak or strong,
Have still to serve or rule so long,
Have still so long to give or ask;
I, who so much with book and pen
Have toiled among my fellow-men,
Am weary, thinking of your task.

O little hearts! that throb and beat
With such impatient, feverish heat,
Such limitless and strong desires;
Mine that so long has glowed and burned,
With passions into ashes turned
Now covers and conceals its fires.

O little souls! as pure and white
And crystalline as rays of light
Direct from heaven, their source divine;
Refracted through the mist of years,
How red my setting sun appears,
How lurid looks this soul of mine!

Her Sigh

by Charles Cotton

Shee sighes, and has blown over now
The stormes, that threatned in her brow:
The Heaven's now serene, and clear,
And bashfull blushes do appear.
Th'errour sh' has found
That did mee wound.
Thus in her od'rous sigh my hopes are crown'd.

Now shee relents, for now I hear
Repentance whisper in my ear.
Happie repentance! that begets
By this sweet airie motion heats,
And does destroy
Her heresie,
That my Faith's branded with inconstancie.

When Thisbe's Pyramus was slain,
This sigh has fetcht him back again:
And such a sigh from Dido's chest
Wafted the Trojan to her breast.
Each of her sighes
My Love does prize
Reward for thousand, thousand cruelties.

Sigh on, my Sweet, and by thy breath
Immortall grown I'l laugh at death:
Had Fame so sweet a one, wee should
In that regard learn to be good.
Sigh on, my Fair,
Henceforth, I swear,
I could Cameleon turne, and live by Air.

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