Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.010 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.

Jenifer

by Nora Hopper Chesson

−0.6119 − 0.5358i

Drawing the boundary…

When the Glare of Day Is Past

by Amelia Alderson Opie

−0.6164 − 0.5266i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Jenifer

by Nora Hopper Chesson

Fate met me as a cottage-girl, 
Her hair hung in one long black curl,
On shoulders dimpled, bare, and kissed 
By morning suns: the evening mist 
Gloomed in her eyes to amethyst. 

Her lips were red as strawberries, 
Bare feet and brown sowed jealousies 
Among the grasses that would fain 
Unto a kiss of them attain — 
And having kissed would kiss again. 

Eyes dark as death and soft as sleep 
Over her lips close watch did keep, 
Forbidding and alluring both; 
Till I that met them was not loth 
In them to drown myself and troth. 

From the dark cottage came the girl 
As from the rough shell slips the pearl, 
And passed me light as wind goes by, 
That has not strength enough to dry 
The dew that shines on roses nigh. 

She passed me, making no delay,
Into the quiet churchyard-hay. 
Her body fair in russet clad, 
Her hair the only black she had; 
Jenifer trysting with her lad. 

When the Glare of Day Is Past

by Amelia Alderson Opie

When the glare of day is past,
And dim twilight comes at last,
O! how sweet with thee to stray,
On the banks of Tay
There we hear lone Philomel
Wake her tuneful powers,
'Tis of love her warblings tell,
Love not blest as ours.

Still, we love her tones of woe,
More than strains that livelier flow,
Hearts where real passion sighs,
All that's plaintive prize.
Never on true lover's brow,
Smiles mirth's heartless madness,
Hearts enamour'd deeply know,
What's the charm of sadness.

Yes my love, such hearts as ours,
Joy not in the laughing bowers,
Where proud tapers gild the night,
And gay crowds invite—
But at twilight's last, faint gleam
Scorning glittering folly,
We enjoy on Tay's lone stream
Love, and Melancholy—

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