Hark! The sea-faring wild-fowl loud proclaim My coming, and the swarming of the bees. These are my heralds, and behold! my name Is written in blossoms on the hawthorn-trees. I tell the mariner when to sail the seas; I waft o'er all the land from far away The breath and bloom of the Hesperides, My birthplace. I am Maia. I am May.
To-day, since Zeppelins are in the air, And folks glance skywards as they go their ways, Let us hark back a bit to an affair That happened in Queen Bess's sturdy days, When the Armada, backed by Spanish lust— A fleet that floating palaces resembled— Sailed proudly forth to crush us in the dust, While all the tremulous in England trembled.
What was the fate of those unwieldy craft? Our little frigates made of British oak Harassed the mighty galleons fore and aft, Handy to strike and shun the counterstroke. The Great Invasion ended in defeat. No more could Philip play the part of mocker, The rout of the Armada was complete, And down it went to Davy Jones's locker.
What frigates did in 1558 May be repeated in the air to-day, When clumsy Zeppelins may meet their fate From aeroplanes that sting and dart away. A well-equipped and handy air patrol Would circumvent an aerial attack. If London is to be the Zeppes' goal, It's up to us to see they don't go back!
—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
How this picture is made
What a fractal is
A fractal is a shape that keeps its pattern when you look closer. Coastlines, trees, shells, and weather do this. The large form and the small form are the same kind of thing. A poem can be drawn that way. The shape of the whole comes from the shape of the lines.
Primunia is the name for the source of that order: the pattern under the pattern, already there in a tree, a shell, and a verse.
How the boundary is drawn
The number under the picture is the poem constant. It is read from the build of the lines: their length, how uneven they are, the size of the stanzas, the share of vowels, and the way the lines end. A new word moves the number when it changes that build. The same poem always gives the same number.
Drawn on its own, that number sits in a quiet part of the plane, and most poems would look like the same soft disk. So the number is carried outward along its own direction until it meets the edge of the Mandelbrot set, where the shape turns sharp. The picture is the Julia set of that meeting place.
Each point on the canvas is folded again and again by one small rule. Points that stay near the rule form the dark interior. Points that rush away become the coloured bands. The hue comes from the poem constant, and the brightest bands turn toward gold. Change the length of a line, the stanza, or the vowel share, and both the number and the picture move.
What the branching signifies
Branching draws the poem as a tree. Each turn follows a line, and every smaller branch repeats that pattern. A longer line reaches farther. The letters at the start of a line bend the next turn. A higher share of vowels opens the branches wider.
The trunk takes its colour from the poem constant and warms toward gold at the tips. When the poem has more than one stanza, gold forks leave the trunk. Each fork is a stanza beyond the first, up to three. The tree divides where the poem divides. One stanza remains a single trunk.