Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.026 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.

The Wife-Woman

by Anne Spencer

0.0541 − 0.3444i

Drawing the boundary…

On a Bed of Guernsey Lilies

by Christopher Smart

0.0470 − 0.3199i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Wife-Woman

by Anne Spencer

Maker-of-Sevens In the scheme of things
From earth to star;
Thy cycle holds whatever is fate, and
Over the border the bar.
Though rank and fierce the mariner
Sailing the seven seas,
He prays, as he holds his glass to his eyes,
Coaxing the Pleiades.

I cannot love them; and I feel your glad
Chiding from the grave,
That my all was only worth at all, what
Joy to you it gave,
These seven links the Law compelled
For the human chain—
I cannot love them; and you, oh,
Seven-fold months in Flanders slain!

A jungle there, a cave here, bred six
And a million years,
Sure and strong, mate for mate, such
Love as culture fears;
I gave you clear the oil and wine;
You saved me your hob and hearth—
See how even life may be ere the
Sickle comes and leaves a swath.

But I can wait the seven of moons,
Or years I spare,
Hoarding the heart's plenty, nor spend
A drop, nor share—
So long but outlives a smile and
A silken gown;
Then gayly I reach up from my shroud,
And you, glory-clad, reach down.

On a Bed of Guernsey Lilies

by Christopher Smart

Ye beauties! O how great the sum
Of sweetness that ye bring,
On what a charity ye come
To bless the latter spring!
How kind the visit that ye pay,
Like strangers on a rainy day,
When heartiness despair'd of guests:
No neighbour's praise your pride alarms,
No rival flow'r surveys your charms,
Or heightens, or contests!

Lo, thro' her works gay nature grieves
How brief she is and frail,
As ever o'er the falling leaves
Autumnal winds prevail.
Yet still the philosophic mind
Consolatory food can find,
And hope her anchorage maintain:
We never are deserted quite;
'Tis by succession of delight
That love supports his reign.

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