Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.029 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 Pixies

by Nora Hopper Chesson

0.1140 + 0.6397i

Drawing the boundary…

Be still, my soul

by A.E.Housman

0.1430 + 0.6421i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Pixies

by Nora Hopper Chesson

Have e'er you seen the Pixies, the folk not blest or banned? 
They walk upon the waters, they sail upon the land, 
They make the green grass greener where'er their footsteps fall, 
The wildest hind in the forest comes at their call. 

They steal from bolted linneys, they milk the kye at grass, 
The maids are kissed a-milking, and no one hears them pass. 
They flit from byre to stable and ride unbroken foals, 
They seek out human lovers to win them souls. 

The Pixies know no sorrow, the Pixies feel no fear,
They take no care for harvest or seedtime of the year; 
Age lays no finger on them, the reaper time goes by 
The Pixies, they who change not, grow old or die.

The Pixies, though they love us, behold us pass away,
And are not sad for flowers they gathered yesterday, 
To-day has crimson foxglove, if purple hose-in-hose 
Withered last night. To-morrow will have its rose.

Be still, my soul

by A.E.Housman

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
 Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
 The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.

Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
 I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
 Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.

Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
 I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
 Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.

Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
 All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation-
 Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again?

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