Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.043 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.

To the Nightingale

by Sir John Davies

0.3789 − 0.6449i

Drawing the boundary…

The Voice of Him I Love

by Amelia Alderson Opie

0.3533 − 0.6102i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

To the Nightingale

by Sir John Davies

Euery night from euen till morne,
Loue's Quirister amidde the thorne
Is now so sweet a singer;
So sweet, as for her song I scorne
Apollo's voice, and finger.

But Nightingale, sith you delight
Euer to watch the starry night;
Tell all the starres of heauen,
Heauen neuer had a starre so bright,
As now to Earth is giuen.

Royall Astræa makes our day
Eternall with her beames, nor may
Grosse darknesse ouercome her;
I now perceiue why some doe write,
No countrey hath so short a night,
As England hath in Summer.

The Voice of Him I Love

by Amelia Alderson Opie

Hence far from me, ye senseless joys
That fade before ye reach the heart,
The crowded dome's distracted noise,
Where all is pomp and useless art!

Give me my home, to quiet dear,
Where hours untold and peaceful move;
So fate ordain I sometimes there
May hear the voice of him I love.

I hate e'en music's pleasing power
When giddy crowds my tones attend,
But love to sing at evening's hour
Too sooth the sorrows of a friend.

I love to breathe the plaintive lays
That Henry's heart and taste approve,
For, oh! how sweet in tones of praise
Appears the voice of him I love!

The praises I from others hear
Some joy may to my pride impart,
But Henry's wake the rapturous tear,
For his applauses touch my heart.

From busy crowds o'erjoyed I fly
With him in lonely shades to rove,
For e'en in gayest scenes I sigh
To hear the voice of him I love.

I woo the drama's magic powers,
Seek music's ever-crowded shrine,
In learning pass the studious hours,
Or try the muse's wreath to twine;

Yet still I feel a joy more dear,
Though I these pure delights approve,
When in retirement's scenes I hear
The soothing voice of him I love.

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