Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.042 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.

Incident of the French Camp

by Robert Browning

−0.0653 − 0.3304i

Drawing the boundary…

Four Footprints

by Thomas Hardy

−0.0259 − 0.3150i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Incident of the French Camp

by Robert Browning

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:
A mile or so away
On a little mound, Napoleon
Stood on our storming-day;
With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,
Legs wide, arms locked behind,
As if to balance the prone brow
Oppressive with its mind.

Just as perhaps he mused "My plans
That soar, to earth may fall,
Let once my army-leader Lannes
Waver at yonder wall"—
Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound
Full-galloping; nor bridle drew
Until he reached the mound,

Then off there flung in smiling joy,
And held himself erect
By just his horse's mane, a boy:
Hardly could suspect—
(So tight he kept his lips compressed.
Scarce any blood came through)
You looked twice ere you saw his breast
Was all but shot in two.

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace
We've got you Ratisbon!
The Marshal's in the market-place,
And you'll be there anon
To see your flag-bird flap his vans
Where I, to heart's desire,
Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans
Soared up again like fire.

The chief's eye flashed; but presently
Softened itself, as sheathes
A film the mother-eagle's eye
When her bruised eaglet breathes.
"You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride
Touched to the quick, he said:
"I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,
Smiling, the boy fell dead.

Four Footprints

by Thomas Hardy

Here are the tracks upon the sand 
Where stood last evening she and I — 
Pressed heart to heart and hand to hand; 
The morning sun has baked them dry.

I kissed her wet face — wet with rain, 
For arid grief had burnt up tears, 
While reached us as in sleeping pain 
The distant gurgling of the weirs.

"I have married him — yes; feel that ring; 
'Tis a week ago that he put it on. …
A dutiful daughter does this thing, 
And resignation succeeds anon!

"But that I body and soul was yours
Ere he'd possession, he'll never know.
He's a confident man. 'The husband scores,'
He says, 'in the long run' ... Now, Dear, go!"

I went. And to-day I pass the spot;
It is only a smart the more to endure;
And she whom I held is as though she were not,
For they have resumed their honeymoon tour.

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