Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.020 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.

When the Rose came I loved the Rose

by Arthur O'Shaughnessy

−0.2358 − 0.4790i

Drawing the boundary…

The Solitary Reaper

by William Wordsworth

−0.2300 − 0.4597i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

When the Rose came I loved the Rose

by Arthur O'Shaughnessy

When the Rose came I loved the Rose, 
And thought of none beside, 
Forgetting all the other flowers, 
And all the others died; 
And morn and noon, and sun and showers, 
And all things loved the Rose, 
Who only half returned my love, 
Blooming alike for those.

I was the rival of a score 
Of loves on gaudy wing,
The nightingale I would implore 
For pity not to sing;
Each called her his; still I was glad 
To wait or take my part;
I loved the Rose—who might have had 
The fairest lily's heart.

The Solitary Reaper

by William Wordsworth

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts, and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
So sweetly to reposing bands 
Of Travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian Sands:
No sweeter voice was ever heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago: 
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of today?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again!

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sung
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;
I listen'd till I had my fill;
And, as I mounted up the hill, 
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

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