Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.034 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.

Napoleon's Farewell

by Lord Byron

−0.2568 + 0.7210i

Drawing the boundary…

On the Sea

by John Keats

−0.2846 + 0.7012i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Napoleon's Farewell

by Lord Byron

Farewell to the Land, where the gloom of my Glory 
Arose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her name — 
She abandons me now — but the page of her story, 
The brightest or blackest, is filled with my fame. 
I have warr'd with a world which vanquish'd me only 
When the meteor of conquest allured me too far; 
I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely, 
The last single Captive to millions in war. 

Farewell to thee, France! when thy diadem crown'd me, 
I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth, — 
But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee, 
Decay'd in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth. 
Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted 
In strife with the storm, when their battles were won — 
Then the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was blasted. 
Had still soar'd with eyes fix'd on victory's sun! 

Farewell to thee, France! — but when Liberty rallies 
Once more in thy regions, remember me then. 
The violet still grows in the depth of thy valleys; 
Though wither'd, thy tear will unfold it again. 
Yet, yet, I may baffle the hosts that surround us, 
And yet may thy heart leap awake to my voice — 
There are links which must break in the chain that has bound us, 
Then turn thee and call on the Chief of thy choice! 

On the Sea

by John Keats

It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand Caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be mov'd for days from where it sometime fell,
When last the winds of Heaven were unbound.
Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vex'd and tir'd,
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
Oh ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody—
Sit ye near some old Cavern's Mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quir'd!

—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
Skip to main content