Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.016 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.

Frost To-Night

by Edith M. Thomas

−0.4803 − 0.0436i

Drawing the boundary…

Down by the Pond

by A. A. Milne

−0.4739 − 0.0292i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Frost To-Night

by Edith M. Thomas

Apple-green west and an orange bar,
And the crystal eye of a lone, one star…
And, "Child, take the shears and cut what you will.
Frost to-night—so clear and dead-still."

Then, I sally forth, half sad, half proud,
And I come to the velvet, imperial crowd,
The wine-red, the gold, the crimson, the pied,—
The dahlias that reign by the garden-side.

The dahlias I might not touch till to-night!
A gleam of the shears in the fading light,
And I gathered them all, — the splendid throng,
And in one great sheaf I bore them along.

In my garden of Life with its all-late flowers,
I heed a Voice in the shrinking hours:
"Frost to-night — so clear and dead-still…"
Half sad, half proud, my arms I fill.

Down by the Pond

by A. A. Milne

I'm fishing.
Don't talk, anybody, don't come near!
Can't you see that the fish might hear?
He thinks I'm playing with a piece of string;
He thinks I'm another sort of funny sort of thing,
But he doesn't know I'm fishing — 
He doesn't know I'm fishing.
That's what I'm doing — 
Fishing.

No, I'm not, I'm newting.
Don't cough, anybody, don't come by!
Any small noise makes a newt feel shy.
He thinks I'm a bush, or a new sort of tree;
He thinks it's somebody, but doesn't think it's Me,
And he doesn't know I'm newting — 
No, he doesn't know I'm newting.
That's what I'm doing — 
Newting.

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