Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.077 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.

Natural Magic

by Robert Browning

0.4472 + 0.6083i

Drawing the boundary…

Vpon Consideracion of the State of This Lyfe He Wisheth Death

by Richard Tottel

0.4704 + 0.5344i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Natural Magic

by Robert Browning

All I can say is—I saw it!
The room was as bare as your hand.
I locked in the swarth little lady,—I swear,
From the head to the foot of her—well, quite as bare!
"No Nautch shall cheat me," said I, "taking my stand
At this bolt which I draw!" And this bolt—I withdraw it,
And there laughs the lady, not bare, but embowered
With—who knows what verdure, o'erfruited, o'erflowered?
Impossible! Only—I saw it!

All I can sing is—I feel it!
This life was as blank as that room;
I let you pass in here. Precaution, indeed?
Walls, ceiling, and floor,—not a chance for a weed!
Wide opens the entrance: where's cold, now, where's gloom?
No May to sow seed here, no June to reveal it,
Behold you enshrined in these blooms of your bringing,
These fruits of your bearing—nay, birds of your winging!
A fairy-tale! Only—I feel it!

Vpon Consideracion of the State of This Lyfe He Wisheth Death

by Richard Tottel

The lenger lyfe, the more offence:
The more offence, the greater payn:
The greater payn, the lesse defence:
The lesse defence, the lesser gayn.
The losse of gayn long yll doth trye:
Wherefore come death, and let me dye.
The shorter life, lesse count I fynde:
The lesse account, the sooner made:
The count soon made, the meryer minde:
The mery minde doth thought euade.
Short lyfe in truth this thing doth trye:
Wherefore come death, and let me dye:
Come gentle death, the ebbe of care,
The ebbe of care, the flood of lyfe,
The flood of lyfe, the ioyfull fare,
The ioyfull fare, the end of strife.
The end of strife, that thing wishe I:
Wherefore come death, and let me dye.

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