Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.037 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 Sirens' Song

by William Browne, of Tavistock

0.0538 − 0.1140i

Drawing the boundary…

The Charm

by Rupert Brooke

0.0254 − 0.1375i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Sirens' Song

by William Browne, of Tavistock

Steer, hither steer your winged pines,
        All beaten mariners!
Here lie Love's undiscover'd mines,
        A prey to passengers—
Perfumes far sweeter than the best
Which make the Phoenix' urn and nest.
        Fear not your ships,
Nor any to oppose you save our lips;
        But come on shore,
Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more.

For swelling waves our panting breasts,
        Where never storms arise,
Exchange, and be awhile our guests:
        For stars gaze on our eyes.
The compass Love shall hourly sing,
And as he goes about the ring,
        We will not miss
To tell each point he nameth with a kiss.
        —Then come on shore,
Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more.

The Charm

by Rupert Brooke

In darkness the loud sea makes moan;
And earth is shaken, and all evils creep
About her ways.

Oh, now to know you sleep!
Out of the whirling blinding moil, alone,
Out of the slow grim fight,
One thought to wing—to you, asleep,
In some cool room that's open to the night,
Lying half-forward, breathing quietly,
One white hand on the white
Unrumpled sheet, and the ever-moving hair
Quiet and still at length!…

Your magic and your beauty and your strength,
Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree,
Sleeping prevail in earth and air.

In the sweet gloom above the brown and white
Night benedictions hover; and the winds of night
Move gently round the room, and watch you there,
And through the dreadful hours
The trees and waters and the hills have kept
The sacred vigil while you slept,
And lay a way of dew and flowers
Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread.

And still the darkness ebbs about your bed.
Quiet, and strange, and loving-kind, you sleep.
And holy joy about the earth is shed;
And holiness upon the deep.

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