Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.013 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.

My Love is Dead

by Philip Bourke Marston

−0.3609 − 0.1425i

Drawing the boundary…

The Fire

by Lola Ridge

−0.3631 − 0.1299i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

My Love is Dead

by Philip Bourke Marston

'Tis Spring, the fresh green glints in the brook, 
The primrose laughs from its shady nook, 
Winter away like a ghost has fled, — 
Let it be Spring, then — my love is dead! 

The Summer is come with burning light; 
The swallow wheels and dips in his flight; 
The Spring away like a ghost has fled, — 
Let it be Summer, my love is dead! 

Autumn is come, with its gold-tressed trees. 
Far through the wood sighs the dirge-like breeze; 
Summer away like a ghost has fled, — 
Let it be Autumn, my love is dead! 

The Winter is come, with white, wan cheek, 
The bare boughs toss, and the wild winds shriek; 
Autumn away like a ghost has fled, — 
Let it be Winter, my love is dead! 

The Fire

by Lola Ridge

The old men of the world have made a fire
To warm their trembling hands.
They poke the young men in.
The young men burn like withes.

If one run a little way,
The old men are wrath.
They catch him and bind him and throw him again to the flames.
Green withes burn slow…
And the smoke of the young men's torment
Rises round and sheer as the trunk of a pillared oak,
And the darkness thereof spreads over the sky….

Green withes burn slow…
And the old men of the world sit round the fire
And rub their hands….
But the smoke of the young men's torment
Ascends up for ever and ever.

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