Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.016 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.

Possibilities

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

−0.5985 + 0.7648i

Drawing the boundary…

Worship

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

−0.5911 + 0.7789i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Possibilities

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Where are the Poets, unto whom belong
  The Olympian heights; whose singing shafts were sent
  Straight to the mark, and not from bows half bent,
  But with the utmost tension of the thong?
Where are the stately argosies of song,
  Whose rushing keels made music as they went
  Sailing in search of some new continent,
  With all sail set, and steady winds and strong?
Perhaps there lives some dreamy boy, untaught
  In schools, some graduate of the field or street,
  Who shall become a master of the art,
An admiral sailing the high seas of thought,
  Fearless and first and steering with his fleet
  For lands not yet laid down in any chart.

Worship

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

This is he, who, felled by foes,
Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows:
He to captivity was sold,
But him no prison-bars would hold:
Though they sealed him in a rock,
Mountain chains he can unlock:
Thrown to lions for their meat,
The crouching lion kissed his feet;
Bound to the stake, no flames appalled,
But arched o'er him an honoring vault.
This is he men miscall Fate,
Threading dark ways, arriving late,
But ever coming in time to crown
The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down.
He is the oldest, and best known,
More near than aught thou call'st thy own,
Yet, greeted in another's eyes,
Disconcerts with glad surprise.
This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers,
Floods with blessings unawares.
Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line
Severing rightly his from thine,
Which is human, which divine.

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