Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.024 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.

Meditation

by Hart Crane

−0.3082 + 0.0275i

Drawing the boundary…

The Slave; a Sea-piece, Off Jamaica

by Richard Henry Horne

−0.2857 + 0.0202i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Meditation

by Hart Crane

I have drawn my hands away
Toward peace and the grey margins of the day.
The andante of vain hopes and lost regret
Falls like slow rain that whispers to forget,—
Like a song that neither questions nor replies
It laves with coolness tarnished lips and eyes.

I have drawn my hands away
At last to touch the ungathered rose. O stay,
Moment of dissolving happiness! Astir
Already in the sky, night's chorister
Has brushed a petal from the jasmine moon,
And the heron has passed by, alas, how soon!

I have drawn my hands away
Like ships for guidance in the lift and spray
Of stars that urge them toward an unknown goal.
Drift, O wakeful one, O restless soul,
Until the glittering white open hand
Of heaven thou shalt read and understand.

The Slave; a Sea-piece, Off Jamaica

by Richard Henry Horne

Before us in the sultry dawn arose
Indigo-tinted mountains; and ere noon
We near'd an isle that lay like a festoon,
And shar'd the ocean's glittering repose.

We saw plantations spotted with white huts;
Estates midst orange groves and towering trees;
Rich yellow lawns embrown'd by soft degrees;
Plots of intense gold freak'd with shadynuts.

A dead hot silence tranced sea, land, and sky:
And now a long canoe came gliding forth,
Wherein there sat an old man fierce and swarth,
Tiger-faced, black-fang'd, and with jaundiced eye.

Pure white, with pale blue chequer'd, and red fold
Of head-cloth 'neath straw brim, this Master wore;
While in the sun-glare stood with high-rais'd oar
A naked Image all of burnish'd gold.

Golden his bones — high-valued in the mart,
His minted muscles, and his glossy skin;
Golden his life of action — but within
The slave is human in a bleeding heart.

—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
Skip to main content