Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.031 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…

Farewell, old Scotia's bleak domains

by Robert Burns

0.0392 − 0.0861i

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.

Farewell, old Scotia's bleak domains

by Robert Burns

Farewell, old Scotia's bleak domains,
Far dearer than the torrid plains
Where rich ananas blow!
Farewell, a mother's blessing dear!
A brother's sigh! a sister's tear!
My Jean's heart-rending throe!
Farewell, my Bess! tho' thou'rt bereft
Of my parental care,
A faithful brother I have left,
My part in him thou'lt share!
Adieu too, to you too,
My Smith, my bosom frien';
When kindly you mind me,
O then befriend my Jean!

What bursting anguish tears my heart!
From thee, my Jeany, must I part!
Thou weeping answ'rest—"No!"
Alas! misfortune stares my face,
And points to ruin and disgrace,
I for thy sake must go!
Thee, Hamilton, and Aiken dear,
A grateful, warm adieu;
I, with a much-indebted tear,
Shall still remember you!
All-hail then, the gale then,
Wafts me from thee, dear shore!
It rustles, and whistles
I'll never see thee more!

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