Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.054 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.

There's been a death in the opposite house

by Emily Dickinson

0.2735 − 0.8720i

Drawing the boundary…

To the Cuckoo

by William Wordsworth

0.3086 − 0.8305i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

There's been a death in the opposite house

by Emily Dickinson

There's been a death in the opposite house
   As lately as to-day.
I know it by the numb look
   Such houses have alway.

The neighbors rustle in and out,
   The doctor drives away.
A window opens like a pod,
   Abrupt, mechanically;

Somebody flings a mattress out, —
   The children hurry by;
They wonder if It died on that, —
   I used to when a boy.

The minister goes stiffly in
   As if the house were his,
And he owned all the mourners now,
   And little boys besides;

And then the milliner, and the man
   Of the appalling trade,
To take the measure of the house.
   There'll be that dark parade

Of tassels and of coaches soon;
   It's easy as a sign, —
The intuition of the news
   In just a country town.

To the Cuckoo

by William Wordsworth

O blithe New-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice:
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass,
I hear thy restless shout:
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
About, and all about!

To me, no Babbler with a tale
Of sunshine and of flowers, 
Thou tellest, Cuckoo! in the vale
Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, Darling of the Spring!
Even yet thou art to me
No Bird; but an invisible Thing,
A voice, a mystery.

The same whom in my School-boy days
I listen'd to; that Cry
Which made me look a thousand ways;
In bush, and tree, and sky. 

To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still long'd for, never seen!

And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain.
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.

O blessed Bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be 
An unsubstantial, faery place;
That is fit home for Thee!

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