And what about a Cowboy, Policeman, Jailer, Engine-driver, Or Pirate Chief? What about a Postman — or a Keeper at the Zoo? What about the Circus Man who lets the people through? And the man who takes the pennies for the roundabouts and swings, Or the man who plays the organ, and the other man who sings? What about a Conjuror with rabbits in his pockets? What about a Rocket Man who's always making rockets? Oh, there's such a lot of things to do and such a lot to be That there's always lots of cherries on my little cherry tree!
If you could sit with me beside the sea to-day, And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o'er and o'er; I think I should not find the clouds so dim and gray, And not so loud the waves complaining at the shore.
If you could sit with me upon the shore to-day, And hold my hand in yours as in the days of old, I think I should not mind the chill baptismal spray, Nor find my hand and heart and all the world so cold.
If you could walk with me upon the strand to-day, And tell me that my longing love had won your own, I think all my sad thoughts would then be put away, And I could give back laughter for the Ocean's moan!
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Track 1
How this picture is made
What a fractal is
A fractal is a shape that keeps its pattern when you look closer. Coastlines, trees, shells, and weather do this. The large form and the small form are the same kind of thing. A poem can be drawn that way. The shape of the whole comes from the shape of the lines.
Primunia is the name for the source of that order: the pattern under the pattern, already there in a tree, a shell, and a verse.
How the boundary is drawn
The number under the picture is the poem constant. It is read from the build of the lines: their length, how uneven they are, the size of the stanzas, the share of vowels, and the way the lines end. A new word moves the number when it changes that build. The same poem always gives the same number.
Drawn on its own, that number sits in a quiet part of the plane, and most poems would look like the same soft disk. So the number is carried outward along its own direction until it meets the edge of the Mandelbrot set, where the shape turns sharp. The picture is the Julia set of that meeting place.
Each point on the canvas is folded again and again by one small rule. Points that stay near the rule form the dark interior. Points that rush away become the coloured bands. The hue comes from the poem constant, and the brightest bands turn toward gold. Change the length of a line, the stanza, or the vowel share, and both the number and the picture move.
What the branching signifies
Branching draws the poem as a tree. Each turn follows a line, and every smaller branch repeats that pattern. A longer line reaches farther. The letters at the start of a line bend the next turn. A higher share of vowels opens the branches wider.
The trunk takes its colour from the poem constant and warms toward gold at the tips. When the poem has more than one stanza, gold forks leave the trunk. Each fork is a stanza beyond the first, up to three. The tree divides where the poem divides. One stanza remains a single trunk.