Poem fractal

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0.097 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.

Vpon Consideracion of the State of This Lyfe He Wisheth Death

by Richard Tottel

0.4704 + 0.5344i

Drawing the boundary…

The Indifferent

by John Donne

0.3812 + 0.4967i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Vpon Consideracion of the State of This Lyfe He Wisheth Death

by Richard Tottel

The lenger lyfe, the more offence:
The more offence, the greater payn:
The greater payn, the lesse defence:
The lesse defence, the lesser gayn.
The losse of gayn long yll doth trye:
Wherefore come death, and let me dye.
The shorter life, lesse count I fynde:
The lesse account, the sooner made:
The count soon made, the meryer minde:
The mery minde doth thought euade.
Short lyfe in truth this thing doth trye:
Wherefore come death, and let me dye:
Come gentle death, the ebbe of care,
The ebbe of care, the flood of lyfe,
The flood of lyfe, the ioyfull fare,
The ioyfull fare, the end of strife.
The end of strife, that thing wishe I:
Wherefore come death, and let me dye.

The Indifferent

by John Donne

I can love both faire and browne,
Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want betraies,
Her who loves lonenesse best, and her who maskes and plaies,
Her whom the country form'd, and whom the town,
Her who beleeves, and her who tries, 
Her who still weepes with spungie eyes,
And her who is dry corke, and never cries;
I can love her, and her, and you and you,
I can love any, so she be not true.

Will no other vice content you? 
Will it not serve your turn to do, as did your mothers?
Or have you all old vices spent, and now would finde out others?
Or doth a feare, that men are true, torment you?
Oh we are not, be not you so,
Let mee, and doe you, twenty know. 
Rob mee, but binde me not, and let me goe.
Must I, who came to travaile thorow you,
Grow your fixt subject, because you are true?

Venus heard me sigh this song,
And by Loves sweetest Part, Variety, she swore, 
She heard not this till now; and that it should be so no more.
She went, examin'd, and return'd ere long,
And said, alas, Some two or three
Poore Heretiques in love there bee,
Which thinke to stablish dangerous constancie. 
But I have told them, since you will be true,
You shall be true to them, who are false to you.

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