Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.038 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.

Captain Cook (To My Brother)

by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

−0.0205 + 0.8309i

Drawing the boundary…

'You Are Very Brown'

by Mary Webb

0.0035 + 0.8016i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Captain Cook (To My Brother)

by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Do you recall the fancies of many years ago,
When the pulse danced those light measure that again it cannot know!
Ah! We both of us are alter’d, and now we talk no more
Of all the old creations that haunted us of yore.

Then any favourite volume was a mine of long delight,
From whence we took our future, to fashion as we might,
We liv’d again its pages, we were its chiefs and kings,
As actual, but more pleasant, than what the day now brings.

It was an August evening, with sunset in the trees,
When home you brought his Voyages who found the Fair South Seas.
We read it till the sunset amid the boughs grew dim;
All other favourite heroes were nothing beside him.

For weeks he was our idol, we sail’d with him at sea,
And the pond amid the willows the ocean seem’d to be.
The water-lilies growing beneath the morning smile,
We called the South Sea islands, each flower a different isle.

No golden lot that fortune could draw for human life,
To us seemed like a sailor’s, mid the storm and strife.
Our talk was of fair vessels that swept before the breeze,
And new discover’d countries amid the Southern seas.

Within that lonely garden what happy hours went by,
While we fancied that around us spread foreign sea and sky.
Ah! the dreaming and the distant no longer haunt the mind;
We leave in leaving childhood, life’s fairy land behind.

There is not of that garden a single tree or flower;
They have plough’d its long green grasses and cut down the lime-tree bower,
Where are the Guelder roses, whose silver used to bring,
With the gold of the laburnums, their tribute to the Spring.

They have vanish’d with the childhood that with their treasures play’d;
The life that cometh after, dwells in a darker shade.
Yet the name of that sea-captain, it cannot but recall
How much we lov’d his dangers, and we mourn’d his fall.

'You Are Very Brown'

by Mary Webb

Elves of the hollow and the dewpond still,
Take pity! Gather for me dew as chill
As ice, and glittering-pure as early dawn,
From pink-tipped daisies on the printless lawn
And the transparent cups of apple-bloom,
And lily bells, to save me from this doom
Of being so brown!
Bring me an unguent made of scented roots;
Pomander of green herbs and scarlet fruits,
Verbena leaves, mallow and melilot,
And balmy rosemary, that I may not
Be brown!
O sweet wild rose,
You have so fair a colour in your face!
Spare me a blush; take from me this disgrace
Of being so brown!
Lilies, you do not guess,
In your pale loveliness,
The grief it is to hear,
In a voice dispassionate and clear,
'You're very brown!'

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