Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.022 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.

Regret

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

−0.0056 + 0.1861i

Drawing the boundary…

Music's Power

by Caroline Elizabeth Sheridan

−0.0070 + 0.1639i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Regret

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

There is a haunting phantom called Regret,
A shadowy creature robed somewhat like Woe,
But fairer in the face, whom all men know
By her sad mien and eyes forever wet.
No heart would seek her; but once having met,
All take her by the hand, and to and fro
They wander through those paths of long ago —
Those hallowed ways 'twere wiser to forget.

One day she led me to that lost land's gate
And bade me enter; but I answered "No!
I will pass on with my bold comrade, Fate;
I have no tears to waste on thee — no time;
My strength I hoard for heights I hope to climb:
No friend art thou for souls that would be great."

Music's Power

by Caroline Elizabeth Sheridan

Have you never heard, in music’s sound,
Some chords which o’er your heart
First fling a moment’s magic round,
Then silently depart?
But with the echo on the air,
Roused by that simple lay,
It leaves a world of feeling there
We cannot chase away.
Yes, yes, — a sound hath power to bid them come —
Youth’s half-forgotten hopes, childhood’s remembered home.

When sitting in your silent home
You gaze around and weep,
Or call to those who cannot come
Nor wake from dreamless sleep;
Those chords, as oft as you bemoan
"The distant and the dead,"
Bring dimly back the fancied tone
Of some sweet voice that’s fled!
Yes, yes, — a sound hath power to bid them come —
Youth’s half-forgotten hopes, childhood’s remembered home.

And when, amid the festal throng,
You are, or would be gay —
And seek to while, with dance and song,
Your sadder thoughts away;
They strike those chords and smiles depart,
As, rushing o’er your soul,
The untold feelings of the heart
Awake, and spurn control!
Yes, yes, — a sound hath power to bid them come —
Youth’s half-forgotten hopes, childhood’s remembered home.

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