Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.047 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 Pixy Gleaner

by Nora Hopper Chesson

0.4249 − 0.3404i

Drawing the boundary…

The Faery Fool

by Nora Hopper Chesson

0.4660 − 0.3632i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Pixy Gleaner

by Nora Hopper Chesson

From candle-douting to candle-teening 
I labour at the weary gleaning: 
The scattered ears I gather up, 
Eat of your bread, drink of your cup; 
And yet no ray of light can guide you 
To guess a Pixy works beside you — 
You of your wisdom overweening. 

I only of my wayward clan
Accept the food and wage of man: 
I labour in your fields all day,
Whence my own folk have fled away. 
No voices call me to the moor 
When at the noon the heat grows sore — 
I bear my burden as I can. 

My fairy birthright I have lost; 
And yet I never grudge the cost, 
Because of one who gleans beside me, 
Whose cloud of russet hair shall hide me 
From Sorrow, who goes seeking ever 
For hearts to break and lives to sever. 
The running brooks for her I crossed: 

Thresholds of human homes I passed, 
My lot among you mortals cast, 
Because a gleaner's eyes were kind, 
A gleaner's voice rang down the wind 
Like a bird's music, lost in leaves. 
I'll bind a whole green shire of sheaves 
If she will love me at the last.

The Faery Fool

by Nora Hopper Chesson

If I'm the faery fool, Dalua — 
Ay me, the faery fool! 
How do I know what the rushes say 
Sighing and shivering night and day 
Over their shadowy pool? 
How do I know what the North wind cries. 
Counting his beads of snow: 
The menace that lies in the Hunter's eyes 
How do I know? 

If I'm the faery fool, Dalua — 
Ay me, the faery fool! 
I cry to those that sent me here. 
To laugh and jest, to geek and fleer. 
To scorn at law and rule. 
"Why did ye also give to me 
Beauty and peace to know? 
The ears to hear and the eyes to see 
And the hands that let all go?"
 
I cry to them that bade me jest 
"Why made ye me so slight, 
Yet put a heart within my breast. 
An evil gift; an evil guest, 
To spoil me for delight? 
Made for mere laughter, answer why 
Must I have eyes for dool? 
Take from me tears, or let me die, 
For I am sick of wisdom, I 
Dalua, the faery fool." 

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