Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.013 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.

Lile Doad

by Frederic William Moorman

−0.2486 − 0.5920i

Drawing the boundary…

Evening Star

by Edgar Allan Poe

−0.2611 − 0.5963i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Lile Doad

by Frederic William Moorman

The Lord's bin hard on me, Sir,
He's stown my barn away.
O dowly, dowly was that neet
He stole lile Doad away!

'Twas Whissuntide we wedded,
Next Easter he was born,
Just as t' last star i' t' April sky
Had faded into t' morn.
Throstles were singin' canty,
For they'd their young i' t' nest;
But birds don't know a mother's love
That howds her barn to t' breast.

When wark was ower i' summer,
I nussed him on my knees;
An' Mike browt home at lowsin'-time
Wild rasps an' strawberries.
We used to sit on t' door-sill
I' t' leet o' t' harvist-moon,
While our lile Doad would clench his fists
An' suck his toes an' croon.

But when t' mell-sheaf was gotten,
An' back-end days set in,
Wi' frost at neet an' roke by day,
His face gate pinched an' thin.
We niver knew what ailed him,
He faded like a floor,
He faded same as skies 'll fade
When t' sun dips into t' moor.

Church bells on Kersmas mornin'
Rang out so merrily,
But cowd an' dreesome were our hearts:
We knew lile Doad must dee.
He lay so still in his creddle,
An' slowly he dwined away,
While I laid two pennies on his een
On Holy Innocents' Day.

The Lord's bin hard on me, Sir,
He's stown my barn away.
O, dowly, dowly was that neet
He stole lile Doad away!

Evening Star

by Edgar Allan Poe

'Twas noontide of summer,
And midtime of night,
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, through the light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
'Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.

I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold—too cold for me—
There passed, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.

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