Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.006 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 Song of Four Winds

by Nora Hopper Chesson

−0.4767 − 0.5136i

Drawing the boundary…

O lusty May

by David Melvill

−0.4782 − 0.5080i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

A Song of Four Winds

by Nora Hopper Chesson

The gray wind out of the West 
Is sighing and making moan, 
For a noinin's silver crest 
In the hay-swathes overthrown. 
Like the heart in a dying breast, 
It flutters, making its moan, 
The gray wind out of the West. 

The black wind out of the North 
Blows loud, like a cry of war: 
Its voice goes gallantly forth 
In fields where the spearsmen are: 
To them is its voice not worth 
Wild music of any star? 
The black wind out of the North. 

The white wind out of the South, 
It makes not for war nor peace: 
'Tis the breath of a colleen's mouth, 
Yet it flutters the willow-trees: 
It burns men's souls with drouth, 
Then fills their souls with ease: 
The white wind out of the South. 

The red wind out of the East — 
What word can a harper say 
Of the wind that blows from the feast, 
And blows men into the fray: 
It will not stay for the priest, 
For the Host it will not stay — 
The red wind blowing out of the East, 
The wind of the Judgment Day. 

O lusty May

by David Melvill

O lusty May, with Flora queen,
The balmy drops from Phoebus’ sheen
Prelucent beams before the day,
By the Diana groweth green
Through gladness of this lusty May.

Then Hesperus that is so bright,
To woeful hearts he casteth light
Right pleasantly before the day,
And shows and sheds forth of that sight
Through gladness of this lusty May.

The birds on boughs of every sort
Send forth their notes and make great mirth
On banks that bloom on every brae,
And fare and fly o’er field and firth
Through gladness of this lusty May.

All lovers’ hearts that are in care,
To their ladies they do repair
On fresh mornings before the day,
And are in mirth aye more and more
Through gladness of this lusty May.

Of all the months of the year,
To mirthful May there is no peer,
Then glistening garments are so gay,
Ye lovers all make merry cheer
Through gladness of this lusty May.

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