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.

Dry-Point

by Philip Arthur Larkin

−0.5004 − 0.1326i

Drawing the boundary…

Calm be thy sleep

by Thomas Moore

−0.5170 − 0.1586i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Dry-Point

by Philip Arthur Larkin

Endlessly, time-honoured irritant,
A bubble is restively forming at your tip.
Burst it as fast as we can —
It will grow again, until we begin dying.

Silently it inflates, till we're enclosed 
And forced to start the struggle to get out:
Bestial, intent, real.
The wet spark comes, the bright blown walls collapse,

But what sad scapes we cannot turn from then:
What ashen hills! what salted, shrunken lakes!
How leaden the ring looks,
Birmingham magic all discredited,

And how remote that bare and sunscrubbed room, 
Intensely far, that padlocked cube of light 
We neither define nor prove,
Where you, we dream, obtain no right of entry.

Calm be thy sleep

by Thomas Moore

Calm be thy sleep as infant's slumbers!
  Pure as angel thoughts thy dreams!
May every joy this bright world numbers
  Shed o'er thee their mingled beams!
Or if, where Pleasure's wing hath glided,
  There ever must some pang remain,
Still be thy lot with me divided,—
  Thine all the bliss and mine the pain!

Day and night my thoughts shall hover
  Round thy steps where'er they stray;
As, even when clouds his idol cover,
  Fondly the Persian tracks its ray.
If this be wrong, if Heaven offended
  By worship to its creature be,
Then let my vows to both be blended,
Half breathed to Heaven and half to thee.

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