Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.020 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.

To His Forsaken Mistress

by Sir Robert Ayton

−0.3471 − 0.2292i

Drawing the boundary…

No man believes

by Dylan Thomas

−0.3321 − 0.2165i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

To His Forsaken Mistress

by Sir Robert Ayton

I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair,
    And I might have gone near to love thee,
Had I not found the slightest prayer
    That lips could move, had power to move thee;
But I can let thee now alone
As worthy to be loved by none.

I do confess thou'rt sweet; yet find
    Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
Thy favours are but like the wind
    That kisseth everything it meets:
And since thou canst with more than one,
Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.

The morning rose that untouch'd stands
    Arm'd with her briers, how sweet she smells!
But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,
    Her sweets no longer with her dwells:
But scent and beauty both are gone,
And leaves fall from her, one by one.

Such fate ere long will thee betide
    When thou hast handled been awhile,
With sere flowers to be thrown aside;
    And I shall sigh, while some will smile,
To see thy love to every one
Hath brought thee to be loved by none.

No man believes

by Dylan Thomas

No man believes who, when a star falls shot,
Cries not aloud blind as a bat,
Cries not in terror when a bird is drawn
Into the quicksand feathers down,
Who does not make a wound in faith
When any light goes out, and life is death.

No man believes who cries not, God is not,
Who feels not coldness in the heat,
In the breasted summer longs not for spring,
No breasted girl, no man who, young
And green, sneers not at the old sky.
No man believes who does not wonder why.

Believe and be saved. No man believes
Who curses not what makes and saves,
No man upon this cyst of earth
Believes who does not lance his faith,
No man, no man, no man.

And this is true, no man can live
Who does not bury God in a deep grave
And then raise up the skeleton again,
No man who does not break and make,
Who in the bones finds not new faith,
Lends not flesh to ribs and neck,
Who does not break and make his final faith.

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