Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.052 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 Beggar to Mab, the Fairy Queen

by Robert Herrick

0.0280 + 0.8491i

Drawing the boundary…

Captain Cook (To My Brother)

by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

−0.0205 + 0.8309i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Beggar to Mab, the Fairy Queen

by Robert Herrick

Please your Grace, from out your store
Give an alms to one that's poor,
That your mickle may have more.
Black I'm grown for want of meat,
Give me then an ant to eat,
Or the cleft ear of a mouse
Over-sour'd in drink of souce;
Or, sweet lady, reach to me
The abdomen of a bee;
Or commend a cricket's hip,
Or his huckson, to my scrip;
Give for bread, a little bit
Of a pease that 'gins to chit,
And my full thanks take for it.
Flour of fuz-balls, that's too good
For a man in needy-hood;
But the meal of mill-dust can
Well content a craving man;
Any orts the elves refuse
Well will serve the beggar's use.
But if this may seem too much
For an alms, then give me such
Little bits that nestle there
In the pris'ner's pannier.
So a blessing light upon
You, and mighty Oberon;
That your plenty last till when
I return your alms again.

Captain Cook (To My Brother)

by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Do you recall the fancies of many years ago,
When the pulse danced those light measure that again it cannot know!
Ah! We both of us are alter’d, and now we talk no more
Of all the old creations that haunted us of yore.

Then any favourite volume was a mine of long delight,
From whence we took our future, to fashion as we might,
We liv’d again its pages, we were its chiefs and kings,
As actual, but more pleasant, than what the day now brings.

It was an August evening, with sunset in the trees,
When home you brought his Voyages who found the Fair South Seas.
We read it till the sunset amid the boughs grew dim;
All other favourite heroes were nothing beside him.

For weeks he was our idol, we sail’d with him at sea,
And the pond amid the willows the ocean seem’d to be.
The water-lilies growing beneath the morning smile,
We called the South Sea islands, each flower a different isle.

No golden lot that fortune could draw for human life,
To us seemed like a sailor’s, mid the storm and strife.
Our talk was of fair vessels that swept before the breeze,
And new discover’d countries amid the Southern seas.

Within that lonely garden what happy hours went by,
While we fancied that around us spread foreign sea and sky.
Ah! the dreaming and the distant no longer haunt the mind;
We leave in leaving childhood, life’s fairy land behind.

There is not of that garden a single tree or flower;
They have plough’d its long green grasses and cut down the lime-tree bower,
Where are the Guelder roses, whose silver used to bring,
With the gold of the laburnums, their tribute to the Spring.

They have vanish’d with the childhood that with their treasures play’d;
The life that cometh after, dwells in a darker shade.
Yet the name of that sea-captain, it cannot but recall
How much we lov’d his dangers, and we mourn’d his fall.

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