Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.024 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.

Awake, my soul!

by Anna Lætitia Barbauld

0.0324 − 0.5169i

Drawing the boundary…

The Other Side of a Mirror

by Mary Coleridge

0.0469 − 0.4973i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Awake, my soul!

by Anna Lætitia Barbauld

Awake, my soul! lift up thine eyes;
See where thy foes against thee rise,
In long array, a numerous host;
Awake, my soul, or thou art lost.

Here giant danger threat’ning stands
Mustering his pale terrific bands;
There pleasure’s silken banners spread,
And willing souls are captive led.

See where rebellious passions rage,
And fierce desires and lusts engage;
The meanest foe of all the train
Has thousands and ten thousands slain.

Thou tread’st upon enchanted ground,
Perils and snares beset thee round;
Beware of all, guard every part,
But most, the traitor in thy heart.

Come then, my soul, now learn to wield
The weight of thine immortal shield;
Put on the armour from above
Of heavenly truth and heavenly love.

The terror and the charm repel,
And powers of earth, and powers of hell;
The man of Calvary triumph'd here;
Why should his faithful followers fear?

The Other Side of a Mirror

by Mary Coleridge

I sat before my glass one day,
And conjured up a vision bare,
Unlike the aspects glad and gay,
That erst were found reflected there —
The vision of a woman, wild
With more than womanly despair.

Her hair stood back on either side
A face bereft of loveliness.
It had no envy now to hide
What once no man on earth could guess.
It formed the thorny aureole
Of hard, unsanctified distress.

Her lips were open — not a sound
Came though the parted lines of red,
Whate'er it was, the hideous wound
In silence and secret bled.
No sigh relieved her speechless woe,
She had no voice to speak her dread.

And in her lurid eyes there shone
The dying flame of life's desire,
Made mad because its hope was gone,
And kindled at the leaping fire
Of jealousy and fierce revenge,
And strength that could not change nor tire.

Shade of a shadow in the glass,
O set the crystal surface free!
Pass — as the fairer visions pass —
Nor ever more return, to be
The ghost of a distracted hour,
That heard me whisper, "I am she!"

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