I am that Helen, that very Helen Of Leda, born in the days of old: Men's hearts were as inns that I might dwell in: Houseless I wander to-night, and cold.
Because man loved me, no God takes pity: My ghost goes wailing where I was Queen! Alas! my chamber in Troy's tall city, My golden couches, my hangings green!
Wasted with fire are the halls they built me, And sown with salt are the streets I trod, Where flowers they scattered and spices spilt me- Alas, that Zeus is a jealous God!
Softly I went on my sandals golden j Of love and pleasure I took my fill; With Paris' kisses my lids were holden, Nor guessed I, when life went at my will, That the Fates behind me went softlier still.
The wind the other evening overthrew The little Love who smiled so mockingly Down that mysterious alley, so that we, Remembering, mused thereon a whole day through.
The wind has overthrown him! The poor stone Lies scattered to the breezes. It is sad To see the lonely pedestal, that had The artist’s name, scarce visible, alone,
Oh! it is sad to see the pedestal Left lonely! and in dream I seem to hear Prophetic voices whisper in my ear The lonely and despairing end of all.
Oh! it is sad! And thou, hast thou not found One heart-throb for the pity, though thine eye Lights at the gold and purple butterfly Brightening the littered leaves upon the ground.
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Track 1
How this picture is made
What a fractal is
A fractal is a shape that keeps its pattern when you look closer. Coastlines, trees, shells, and weather do this. The large form and the small form are the same kind of thing. A poem can be drawn that way. The shape of the whole comes from the shape of the lines.
Primunia is the name for the source of that order: the pattern under the pattern, already there in a tree, a shell, and a verse.
How the boundary is drawn
The number under the picture is the poem constant. It is read from the build of the lines: their length, how uneven they are, the size of the stanzas, the share of vowels, and the way the lines end. A new word moves the number when it changes that build. The same poem always gives the same number.
Drawn on its own, that number sits in a quiet part of the plane, and most poems would look like the same soft disk. So the number is carried outward along its own direction until it meets the edge of the Mandelbrot set, where the shape turns sharp. The picture is the Julia set of that meeting place.
Each point on the canvas is folded again and again by one small rule. Points that stay near the rule form the dark interior. Points that rush away become the coloured bands. The hue comes from the poem constant, and the brightest bands turn toward gold. Change the length of a line, the stanza, or the vowel share, and both the number and the picture move.
What the branching signifies
Branching draws the poem as a tree. Each turn follows a line, and every smaller branch repeats that pattern. A longer line reaches farther. The letters at the start of a line bend the next turn. A higher share of vowels opens the branches wider.
The trunk takes its colour from the poem constant and warms toward gold at the tips. When the poem has more than one stanza, gold forks leave the trunk. Each fork is a stanza beyond the first, up to three. The tree divides where the poem divides. One stanza remains a single trunk.