Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.032 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.

Invective Against Swans

by Wallace Stevens

−0.2308 − 0.2551i

Drawing the boundary…

Over the Hills and Far Away

by Nora Hopper Chesson

−0.2476 − 0.2280i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Invective Against Swans

by Wallace Stevens

The soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks 
And far beyond the discords of the wind.

A bronze rain from the sun descending marks
The death of summer, which that time endures

Like one who scrawls a listless testament
Of golden quirks and Paphian caricatures,

Bequeathing your white feathers to the moon
And giving your bland motions to the air.

Behold, already on the long parades
The crows anoint the statues with their dirt.

And the soul, O ganders, being lonely, flies
Beyond your chilly chariots, to the skies.

Over the Hills and Far Away

by Nora Hopper Chesson

Last night, last night, in the dark o' the moon 
Into my dreams slid a faery tune 
It slew the dreams that I dreamed of him, 
With its moonshine music, faint and dim. 
What tune should the fairy pipers play 
But "Over the Hills and Far Away? " 

The music called to my idle feet, 
And O! the music was wild and sweet: 
I left my dreams and my lonely bed, 
And followed afar where the music led — 
And never a tune did the pipers play 
But "Over the Hills and Far Away." 

Over the hills and far away, 
What love has tenderer words to say? 
Love that lifteth or bows the head, 
Love that liveth or love that's dead? 
Hills that are far away are fair, 
And I followed the ghost of my lover there. 

We danced all night in a silent band, 
I and my lover, hand in hand: 
We danced, nor knew till the dew was dry 
That deep slept Donat and lone slept I — 
We took no thought of the coming day 
Over the hills and far away. 

My eyes are blind with the growing light, 
And O my grief! that the day was night — 
For my heart is broke, for my lover's eyes, 
And all day long in my ears there cries 
The tune of the fairy pipes that play 
"Over the Hills and Far Away." 

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