Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.027 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.

Self-Dependence

by Matthew Arnold

−0.0781 − 0.1570i

Drawing the boundary…

Sprightly Old Age

by Leigh Hunt

−0.0868 − 0.1310i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Self-Dependence

by Matthew Arnold

Weary of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be,
At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me
Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.

And a look of passionate desire
O'er the sea and to the stars I send:
"Ye who from my childhood up have calm'd me,
Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!

"Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters,
On my heart your mighty charm renew;
Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you,
Feel my soul becoming vast like you!"

From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,
Over the lit sea's unquiet way,
In the rustling night-air came the answer:
"Wouldst thou be as these are? Live as they.

"Unaffrighted by the silence round them,
Undistracted by the sights they see,
These demand not that the things without them
Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.

"And with joy the stars perform their shining,
And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll;
For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting
All the fever of some differing soul.

"Bounded by themselves, and unregardful
In what state God's other works may be,
In their own tasks all their powers pouring,
These attain the mighty life you see."

O air-born voice! long since, severely clear,
A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear:
"Resolve to be thyself; and know that he,
Who finds himself, loses his misery!"

Sprightly Old Age

by Leigh Hunt

When the sports of youth I see, 
Youth itself returns to me. 
Then indeed my old age springs, 
To the dance on starting wings.
Stop, Cybele, roses there, —
As befits a dancer's hair:
Grey-beard sloth away be flung;
And I'll join you, young for young,
Afterwards go fetch we wine,
Bounty of a fruit divine;
And I'll show what age can do,
Able still to warble too,
Able still to drink down sadness,
And display a graceful madness.

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