Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.041 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.

Valiant Love

by Richard Lovelace

0.0445 + 0.2539i

Drawing the boundary…

If women could be fair

by Edward de Vere

0.0753 + 0.2809i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Valiant Love

by Richard Lovelace

Now fie upon that everlasting life! I die!
She hates! Ah me! It makes me mad;
As if love fired his torch at a moist eye,
Or with his joys e’er crowned the sad.
Oh, let me live and shout, when I fall on;
Let me e’en triumph in the first attempt!
Love’s duellist from conquest’s not exempt,
When his fair murderess shall not gain one groan,
And he expire e’en in ovation.

Let me make my approach, when I lie down
With counter-wrought and traversed eyes;
With peals of confidence batter the town;
Had ever beggar yet the keys?
No, I will vary storms with sun and wind;
Be rough, and offer calm condition;
March in and plead, or starve the garrison.
Let her make sallies hourly: yet I’ll find
(Though all beat off) she’s to be undermined.

Then may it please your little excellence
Of hearts to ordain, by sound of lips,
That henceforth none in tears dare love commence
(Her thoughts i’th’ full, his, in th’ eclipse);
On pain of having’s lance broke on her bed,
That he be branded all free beauties’ slave,
And his own hollow eyes be doomed his grave:
Since in your host that coward ne’er was fed,
Who to his prostrate e’er was prostrated.

If women could be fair

by Edward de Vere

If women could be faire and never fond,
or that their beautie might continue still:
I would not mervaile though they made men bond,
by service long, to purchase their good will.
But when I see, how frail these cretures are:
I laugh, that men forget themselves so far.

To marke what choise they make, and how they change,
how leving best the worst they chose out stil:
And how like haggards wilde, about they range,
Skorning after reason to follow will.
Who would not shake such bussards from the fist,
And let them flie (faire fooles) which way they list.

Yet for our sport, wee fawne and flatter both,
To passe the time, when nothing else can please:
And traine them on to yeeld by subtill oath,
The sweet content, that gives such humour ease.
And then wee say, when wee their follies trie,
To play with fooles, Oh what a foole was I.

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