Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.043 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.

Guilo

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

0.3835 + 0.0433i

Drawing the boundary…

Half Awake

by Anne Whitney

0.3439 + 0.0269i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Guilo

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Yes, yes! I love thee, Guilo; thee alone.
Why dost thou sigh, and wear that face of sorrow?
The sunshine is to-day's, although it shone
On yesterday, and may shine on to-morrow.

I love but thee, my Guilo! be content;
The greediest heart can claim but present pleasure.
The future is thy God's. The past is spent.
To-day is thine; clasp close the precious treasure.

See how I love thee, Guilo! Lips and eyes
Could never under thy fond gaze dissemble.
I could not feign these passion-laden sighs;
Deceiving thee, my pulses would not tremble.

"So I loved Romney." Hush, thou foolish one —
I should forget him wholly wouldst thou let me;
Or but remember that his day was done
From that supremest hour when first I met thee.

"And Paul?" Well, what of Paul? Paul had blue eyes,
And Romney gray, and thine are darkly tender!
One finds fresh feelings under change of skies —
A new horizon brings a newer splendor.

As I love thee I never loved before;
Believe me, Guilo, for I speak most truly.
What though to Romney and to Paul I swore
The self-same words; my heart now worships newly.

We never feel the same emotion twice:
No two ships ever ploughed the self-same billow;
The waters change with every fall and rise;
So, Guilo, go contented to thy pillow.

Half Awake

by Anne Whitney

Ah, working-day life,
Pain, struggle and strife—
Ado and undoing,
Action and rueing,
Much undertaking,
Yet ne'er a thing making;
Purposing featly
To break as completely!
What do I live for?
What do I grieve for?
Millions like me have lived,
Millions like me have grieved;
Of each be it said
That earth was his bed,
And there he lay dreaming:
For a day, however it seemed,
He dreamed;— for a night, he dreamed that he dreamed.

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