Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.006 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.

Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?

by Robert Burns

0.2541 + 0.2442i

Drawing the boundary…

Fancy, Farewell

by Sir Edward Dyer

0.2555 + 0.2382i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?

by Robert Burns

Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
How I so found it full of pleasing charms?
Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between:
Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms:
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?
Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?
For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms;
I tremble to approach an angry God,
And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.

Fain would I say, "Forgive my foul offence!"
Fain promise never more to disobey;
But, should my Author health again dispense,
Again I might desert fair virtue's way:
Again in folly's path might go astray;
Again exalt the brute and sink the man;
Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray,
Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan?
Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran?

O Thou, great Governor of all below!
If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee,
Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow,
Or still the tumult of the raging sea:
With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me
Those headlong furious passions to confine;
For all unfit I feel my pow'rs to be,
To rule their torrent in th' allowed line;
O, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine!

Fancy, Farewell

by Sir Edward Dyer

Fancy, farewell, that fed my fond delight;
Delight, adieu, the cause of my distress;
Distress, adieu, that dost me such despite;
Despite, adieu, for death doth lend redress.
And death, adieu, for though I thus be slain,
In thy despite I hope to live again.

Sweet heart, farewell, whose love hath wrought my woe;
And farewell, woe, that wearied hast my wits;
And farewell, wit, which will bewitchëd so;
And farewell, will, O full of frantic fits.
Franzy, farewell, whose force I feel too sore,
And farewell, feeling, for I feel no more.

And life, adieu, that I have lived and loathed,
And farewell, love, that makest me loathe my life;
Both love and life, farewell unto you both;
Twixt hope and dread, farewell, all foolish strife.
Folly, farewell, which I have fancied so,
And farewell, fancy, that first wrought my woe.

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