Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.011 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.

Coronach, or Death-Wail

by Charles Mackay

0.1405 − 0.5221i

Drawing the boundary…

Friendship’s Mystery, To my Dearest Lucasia

by Katherine Philips

0.1408 − 0.5332i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Coronach, or Death-Wail

by Charles Mackay

Wail! Wail!
For a sun hath set,
Which no returning morrow 
Shall ever call 
From the darksome pail,
To beam upon our sorrow!
Moan! Moan!
O'er his dwelling lone,
As ye heap the clod above him:
Dead! Dead!
His soul hath fled
From the hearts that lived to love him!

Wail! Wail!
Though our tears be vain,
For the soul in glory shining!
Yet how can those 
Who have seen his close 
Forbear for awhile repining?
Moan! Moan! 
O’er the narrow stone;
Body and soul must sever!
Dead! Dead!
His spirit hath fled.
And a star hath set for ever!

Friendship’s Mystery, To my Dearest Lucasia

by Katherine Philips

Come, my Lucasia, since we see
That Miracles Men's faith do move,
By wonder and by prodigy
To the dull angry world let’s prove
There’s a Religion in our Love.

For though we were design’d t’ agree,
That Fate no liberty destroyes,
But our Election is as free
As Angels, who with greedy choice
Are yet determin’d to their joyes.

Our hearts are doubled by the loss,
Here Mixture is Addition grown;
We both diffuse, and both ingross:
And we whose minds are so much one,
Never, yet ever are alone.

We court our own Captivity
Than Thrones more great and innocent:
’Twere banishment to be set free,
Since we wear fetters whose intent
Not Bondage is, but Ornament.

Divided joyes are tedious found,
And griefs united easier grow:
We are our selves but by rebound,
And all our Titles shuffled so,
Both Princes, and both Subjects too.

Our Hearts are mutual Victims laid,
While they (such power in Friendship lies)
Are Altars, Priests, and Off’rings made:
And each Heart which thus kindly dies,
Grows deathless by the Sacrifice.

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