Poem fractal

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0.024 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.

A Year Ago

by Philip Bourke Marston

0.2323 + 0.2346i

Drawing the boundary…

Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?

by Robert Burns

0.2541 + 0.2442i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

A Year Ago

by Philip Bourke Marston

A year ago, beloved! Who shall say 
What smiles and tears were ours a year ago? 
Last year my heart was fain its love to show; 
Then had I songs to sing, and prayers to pray, 
And dreams to dream, in dawns and twilights gray, — 
Dreams of love's heaven, that I came to know 
For passionate realities; and, lo! 
Realities turn back to dreams to-day. 

O thou, my love, my saviour, living yet! 
I stand with folded hands before the gates, — 
Dark doors, whereof Death hath alone the key. 
So, with strained ear to iron gratings set, 
His term of bondage spent, some prisoner waits 
The word that, long delayed, shall make him free. 

Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?

by Robert Burns

Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
How I so found it full of pleasing charms?
Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between:
Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms:
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?
Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?
For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms;
I tremble to approach an angry God,
And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.

Fain would I say, "Forgive my foul offence!"
Fain promise never more to disobey;
But, should my Author health again dispense,
Again I might desert fair virtue's way:
Again in folly's path might go astray;
Again exalt the brute and sink the man;
Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray,
Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan?
Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran?

O Thou, great Governor of all below!
If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee,
Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow,
Or still the tumult of the raging sea:
With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me
Those headlong furious passions to confine;
For all unfit I feel my pow'rs to be,
To rule their torrent in th' allowed line;
O, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine!

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