Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.039 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.

To Night

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

−0.0726 − 0.4252i

Drawing the boundary…

At that hour when all things have repose

by James Joyce

−0.0356 − 0.4386i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

To Night

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Swiftly walk over the western wave,
              Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave,
Where all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
Which make thee terrible and dear,—
             Swift be thy flight!

Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
             Star-inwrought!
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;
Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand—
             Come, long sought!

When I arose and saw the dawn,
             I sigh'd for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turned to his rest,
Lingering like an unloved guest,
             I sighed for thee.

Thy brother Death came, and cried,
             Wouldst thou me?
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmured like a noon-tide bee,
Shall I nestle near thy side?
Wouldst thou me?—And I replied,
             No, not thee!

Death will come when thou art dead,
             Soon, too soon—
Sleep will come when thou art fled;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, belovèd Night—
Swift be thine approaching flight,
             Come soon, soon!

At that hour when all things have repose

by James Joyce

At that hour when all things have repose,
    O lonely watcher of the skies,
    Do you hear the night wind and the sighs
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
    The pale gates of sunrise?

When all things repose, do you alone
    Awake to hear the sweet harps play
    To Love before him on his way,
And the night wind answering in antiphon
    Till night is overgone?

Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,
    Whose way in heaven is aglow
    At that hour when soft lights come and go,
Soft sweet music in the air above
    And in the earth below.

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