Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.094 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.

Bird-Song

by James Edwin Campbell

0.6564 − 0.3903i

Drawing the boundary…

No, Thank You, John

by Christina Rossetti

0.6692 − 0.4836i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Bird-Song

by James Edwin Campbell

Cheereen! Cheewink! O poet,
We've come to stay, to stay.
Cheereen! Cheewink! You know it,
And smile as we pipe our lay.
Cheersen! Cheereen! Cheewink! Cheereen!
See all the hillsides turning green,
The sun is bright,
The sky is light,
Cheereen! Cheereen! Cheereen!.

Cheereen! Cheewink! O poet,
We've come to play, to play.
Cheereen! Cheewink! You know it—
O smile as we pipe our lay.
Cheereen! Cheewink! Cheereen! Cheewink!
O list our notes, they rise, they sink
Upon the air,
So rich, so rare,
Cheereen! Cheereen! Cheereen!

Cheereen! Cheewink! O toiler,
'Tis time to work, to work.
The brook tells thee, the brawler,
'Tis time to cease to shirk.
Cheereen! Cheewink! Cheereen! Cheewink!
Not of the toil but harvest think,
Bring out thy plow,
'Tis work time now,
Cheereen! Cheereen! Cheereen!

No, Thank You, John

by Christina Rossetti

I never said I loved you, John:
Why will you tease me, day by day,
And wax a weariness to think upon
With always "do" and "pray"?

You know I never loved you, John;
No fault of mine made me your toast:
Why will you haunt me with a face as wan
As shows an hour-old ghost?

I dare say Meg or Moll would take
Pity upon you, if you'd ask:
And pray don't remain single for my sake
Who can't perform that task.

I have no heart?—Perhaps I have not;
But then you're mad to take offence
That I don't give you what I have not got:
Use your own common sense.

Let bygones be bygones:
Don't call me false, who owed not to be true:
I'd rather answer "No" to fifty Johns
Than answer "Yes" to you.

Let's mar our pleasant days no more,
Song-birds of passage, days of youth:
Catch at to-day, forget the days before:
I'll wink at your untruth.

Let us strike hands as hearty friends;
No more, no less: and friendship's good:
Only don't keep in view ulterior ends,
And points not understood

In open treaty. Rise above
Quibbles and shuffling off and on:
Here's friendship for you if you like; but love,—
No, thank you, John.

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