Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.044 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.

An Ode to Love

by Aphra Behn

0.1061 − 0.3120i

Drawing the boundary…

The Heart Breaking

by Abraham Cowley

0.0655 − 0.2947i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

An Ode to Love

by Aphra Behn

Dull Love no more thy senseless arrows prize,
Damn thy gay quiver, break thy bow;
'Tis only young Lysanders eyes,
That all the arts of wounding know.

A pox of foolish politics in love,
A wise delay in war the foe may harm:
By lazy siege while you to conquest move;
His fiercer beauties vanquish by a storm.

Some wounded god, to be revenged on thee,
The charming youth formed in a lucky hour,
Dressed him in all that fond divinity,
That has out-rivalled thee, a god, in power.

Or else while thou supinely laid 
Basking beneath some myrtle shade,
In careless sleep, or tired with play,
When all thy shafts did scattered lie;
Th'unguarded spoils he bore away,
And armed himself with the artillery.

The sweetness from thy eyes he took,
The charming dimples from thy mouth,
That wonderous softness when you spoke;
And all thy everlasting youth.

Thy bow, thy quiver, and thy darts:
Even of thy painted wing has rifled thee,
To bear him from his conquered broken hearts,
To the next fair and yielding she.

The Heart Breaking

by Abraham Cowley

It gave a piteous groan, and so it broke;
In vain it something would have spoke:
The love within too strong for 't was,
Like poison put into a Venice-glass.

I thought that this some remedy might prove;
But oh, the mighty serpent Love,
Cut by this chance in pieces small,
In all still lived, and still it stung in all.

And now, alas! each little broken part
Feels the whole pain of all my heart;
And every smallest corner still
Lives with the torment which the whole did kill.

Even so rude armies, when the field they quit,
And into several quarters get;
Each troop does spoil and ruin more
Than all joined in one body did before.

How many Loves reign in my bosom now!
How many loves, yet all of you!
Thus have I changed with evil fate
My Monarch-love into a Tyrant-state.

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