Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.033 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.

Mankind is sick

by Thomas Traherne

0.0741 − 0.0427i

Drawing the boundary…

The Fair Singer

by Andrew Marvell

0.0477 − 0.0619i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Mankind is sick

by Thomas Traherne

Mankind is sick, the World distemper'd lies,
Opprest with Sins and Miseries.
Their Sins are Woes; a long corrupted Train
Of Poyson, drawn from Adam's vein,
Stains all his Seed, and all his Kin
Are one Disease of Life within.
They all torment themselves!
The World's one Bedlam, or a greater Cave
Of Mad-men, that do alwaies rave.

The Wise and Good like kind Physicians are,
That strive to heal them by their Care.
They Physick and their Learning calmly use,
Although the Patient them abuse.
For since the Sickness is (they find)
A sad Distemper of the Mind;
All railings they impute,
All Injuries, unto the sore Disease,
They are expresly come to ease!

If we would to the Worlds distemper'd Mind
Impute the Rage which there we find,
We might, even in the midst of all our Foes,
Enjoy and feel a sweet Repose:
Might pity all the Griefs we see,
Anointing every Malady
With precious Oyl and Balm;
And while ourselves are Calm, our Art improve
To rescue them, and shew our Love.

The Fair Singer

by Andrew Marvell

To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
In whom both beauties to my death agree,
Joining themselves in fatal harmony,
That, while she with her eyes my heart does bind,
She with her voice might captivate my mind.

I could have fled from one but singly fair;
My disentangled soul itself might save,
Breaking the curled trammels of her hair;
But how should I avoid to be her slave,
Whose subtle art invisibly can wreath
My fetters of the very air I breathe?

It had been easy fighting in some plain,
Where victory might hang in equal choice,
But all resistance against her is vain,
Who has the advantage both of eyes and voice,
And all my forces needs must be undone,
She having gained both the wind and sun.

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