Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.011 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.

Not, to me, less lavish

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

0.2534 + 0.5450i

Drawing the boundary…

The Cuckoo

by Edward Thomas

0.2591 + 0.5548i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Not, to me, less lavish

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Not, to me, less lavish—though my dreams have been splendid—
Than dreams, have been the hours of the actual day:
Never, awaking, did I awake to say:
"Nothing could be like that," when a dream was ended.
Colours, in dream; ecstasy, in dream extended
Beyond the edge of sleep—these, in their way,
Approach, come even close, yet pause, yet stay,
In the high presence of request by its answer attended.

Music, and painting, poetry, love, and grief,
Had they been more intense, I could not have borne,—
Yet, not, I think, through stout endurance lacked;
Rather, because the budding and the falling leaf
Were one, and wonderful,—not to be torn
Apart: I ask of dream: seem like the fact.

The Cuckoo

by Edward Thomas

That's the cuckoo, you say. I cannot hear it.
When last I heard it I cannot recall; but I know
Too well the year when first I failed to hear it—
It was drowned by my man groaning out to his sheep "Ho! Ho!"

Ten times with an angry voice he shouted
"Ho! Ho!" but not in anger, for that was his way.
He died that Summer, and that is how I remember
The cuckoo calling, the children listening, and me saying, "Nay."

And now, as you said, "There it is," I was hearing
Not the cuckoo at all, but my man's "Ho! Ho!" instead.
And I think that even if I could lose my deafness
The cuckoo's note would be drowned by the voice of my dead.

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