Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.043 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.

The Wrong House

by A. A. Milne

0.3623 − 0.3625i

Drawing the boundary…

Time and Love

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

0.3205 − 0.3514i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Wrong House

by A. A. Milne

I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has big steps and a great big hall;
But it hasn't got a garden,
A garden,
A garden,
It isn't like a house at all.

I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has a big garden and great high wall;
But it hasn't got a may-tree,
A may-tree,
A may-tree,
It isn't like a house at all.

I went into a house and it wasn't a house—
Slow white petals from the may-tree fall;
But it hasn't got a blackbird,
A blackbird,
A blackbird,
It isn't like a house at all.

I went into a house, and I thought it was a house,
I could hear from the may-tree the blackbird call. . . .
But nobody listened to it,
Nobody
Liked it,
Nobody wanted it at all.

Time and Love

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Time flies. The swift hours hurry by
And speed us on to untried ways;
New seasons ripen, perish, die,
And yet love stays.
The old, old love — like sweet, at first,
At last like bitter wine —
I know not if it blest or curst
Thy life and mine.

Time flies. In vain our prayers, our tears!
We cannot tempt him to delays;
Down to the past he bears the years,
And yet love stays.
Through changing task and varying dream
We hear the same refrain,
As one can hear a plaintive theme
Run through each strain.

Time flies. He steals our pulsing youth;
He robs us of our care-free days;
He takes away our trust and truth:
And yet love stays.
O Time! take love! When love is vain,
When all its best joys die —
When only its regrets remain —
Let love, too, fly.

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