Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.023 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 Hill-Winds

by Nora Hopper Chesson

−0.4122 + 0.0268i

Drawing the boundary…

Time, Hope, and Memory

by Thomas Hood

−0.4140 + 0.0501i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Hill-Winds

by Nora Hopper Chesson

The hill-winds coming, the hill-winds going, 
They have no care for my heavy fret; 
I lay my face in the long grass growing, 
And dream of Moirin, and half forget 
That never a wind in the world is blowing 
Her thoughts to my heart that loves her yet. 

The hill-winds going, the hill-winds coming, 
I take no heed of them all day long — 
Though I lie in their heart from dawn to gloaming, 
And hark the bees where the clovers throng: 
And, O wild bees, that you'd hush your humming: 
What comfort is there in comb or song? 

The hill-winds fly without care or cumber, 
And scent of bean-fields they bring to me, 
Where magic flowers without name or number 
Are sending dreams where sad sleepers be: 
But none so deep as the honeyed slumber 
Of Moirin drowned in the Ictian Sea. 

Time, Hope, and Memory

by Thomas Hood

I heard a gentle maiden, in the spring,
Set her sweet sighs to music, and thus sing:
"Fly through the world, and I will follow thee,
Only for looks that may turn back on me;

"Only for roses that your chance may throw—
Though withered—Twill wear them on my brow,
To be a thoughtful fragrance to my brain,—
Warm'd with such love, that they will bloom again."

"Thy love before thee, I must tread behind,
Kissing thy foot-prints, though to me unkind;
But trust not all her fondness, though it seem,
Lest thy true love should rest on a false dream."

"Her face is smiling, and her voice is sweet;
But smiles betray, and music sings deceit;
And words speak false;—yet, if they welcome prove,
I'll be their echo, and repeat their love."

"Only if waken'd to sad truth, at last,
The bitterness to come, and sweetness past;
When thou art vext, then turn again, and see
Thou hast loved Hope, but Memory loved thee."

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