Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.019 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 Dungeon

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

−0.4055 + 0.7005i

Drawing the boundary…

Africa

by Claude McKay

−0.4000 + 0.6818i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Dungeon

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

And this place our forefathers made for man!
This is the process of our love and wisdom,
To each poor brother who offends against us—
Most innocent, perhaps—and what if guilty?
Is this the only cure? Merciful God!
Each pore and natural outlet shrivel’d up
By Ignorance and parching Poverty,
His energies roll back upon his heart,
And stagnate and corrupt; till chang’d to poison,
They break out on him, like a loathsome plague-spot;
Then we call in our pamper’d mountebanks—
And this is their best cure! uncomforted
And friendless solitude, groaning and tears,
And savage faces, at the clanking hour,
Seen through the steams and vapor of his dungeon,
By the lamp’s dismal twilight! So he lies
Circled with evil, till his very soul
Unmolds its essence, hopelessly deform’d
By sights of evermore deformity!

With other ministrations thou, O Nature!
Healest thy wandering and distemper’d child:
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets,
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters,
Will he relent, and can no more endure
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing,
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
His angry spirit heal'd and harmoniz’d
By the benignant touch of Love and Beauty.

Africa

by Claude McKay

The sun sought thy dim bed and brought forth light,
The sciences were sucklings at thy breast;
When all the world was young in pregnant night
Thy slaves toiled at thy monumental best.
Thou ancient treasure-land, thou modern prize,
New peoples marvel at thy pyramids!
The years roll on, thy sphinx of riddle eyes
Watches the mad world with immobile lids.
The Hebrews humbled them at Pharaoh's name.
Cradle of Power! Yet all things were in vain!
Honor and Glory, Arrogance and Fame!
They went. The darkness swallowed thee again.
Thou art the harlot, now thy time is done,
Of all the mighty nations of the sun.

—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
Skip to main content