Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.028 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.

At An Inn

by Thomas Hardy

−0.2832 − 0.8576i

Drawing the boundary…

The Birch Tree at Loschwitz

by Amy Levy

−0.3114 − 0.8546i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

At An Inn

by Thomas Hardy

When we as strangers sought
       Their catering care,
    Veiled smiles bespoke their thought
       Of what we were.
    They warmed as they opined
       Us more than friends—
    That we had all resigned
       For love's dear ends.

    And that swift sympathy
       With living love
    Which quicks the world—maybe
       The spheres above,
    Made them our ministers,
       Moved them to say,
    "Ah, God, that bliss like theirs
       Would flush our day!"

    And we were left alone
       As Love's own pair;
    Yet never the love-light shone
       Between us there!
    But that which chilled the breath
       Of afternoon,
    And palsied unto death
       The pane-fly's tune.

    The kiss their zeal foretold,
       And now deemed come,
    Came not: within his hold
       Love lingered numb.
    Why cast he on our port
       A bloom not ours?
    Why shaped us for his sport
       In after-hours?

    As we seemed we were not
       That day afar,
    And now we seem not what
       We aching are.
    O severing sea and land,
       O laws of men,
    Ere death, once let us stand
       As we stood then!

The Birch Tree at Loschwitz

by Amy Levy

At Loschwitz above the city
The air is sunny and chill;
The birch trees and the pine trees
Grow thick upon the hill.

Lone and tall, with silver stem,
A birch tree stands apart;
The passionate wind of spring-time
Stirs in its leafy heart.

I lean against the birch tree,
My arms around it twine;
It pulses, and leaps, and quivers,
Like a human heart to mine.

One moment I stand, then sudden
Let loose mine arms that cling:
O God! the lonely hillside,
The passionate wind of spring!

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