Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.025 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.

Eureka

by J.G. Holland

−0.3002 − 0.6966i

Drawing the boundary…

The True Lover

by A.E.Housman

−0.2819 − 0.7143i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Eureka

by J.G. Holland

Whom I crown with love is royal;
Matters not her blood or birth;
She is queen, and I am loyal
To the noblest of the earth.

Neither place, nor wealth, nor title.
Lacks the man my friendship owns;
His distinction, true and vital,
Shines supreme o'er crowns and thrones.

Where true love bestows its sweetness,
Where true friendship lays its hand,
Dwells all greatness. all completeness,
All the wealth of every land.

Man is greater than condition,
And where man himself bestows,
He begets, and gives position
To the gentlest that he knows.

Neither miracle nor fable
Is the water changed to wine;
Lords and ladies at my table
Prove Love's simplest fare divine.

And if these accept my duty,
If the loved my homage own,
I have won all worth and beauty;
I have found the magic stone.

The True Lover

by A.E.Housman

The lad came to the door at night,
 When lovers crown their vows,
And whistled soft and out of sight
 In shadow of the boughs.

"I shall not vex you with my face
 Henceforth, my love, for aye;
So take me in your arms a space
 Before the east is grey."

"When I from hence away am past
 I shall not find a bride,
And you shall be the first and last
 I ever lay beside."

She heard and went and knew not why;
 Her heart to his she laid;
Light was the air beneath the sky
 But dark under the shade.

"Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast
 Seems not to rise and fall,
And here upon my bosom prest
 There beats no heart at all?"

"Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock,
 You should have felt it then;
But since for you I stopped the clock
 It never goes again."

"Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips
 Wet from your neck on mine?
What is it falling on my lips,
 My lad, that tastes of brine?"

"Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear,
 For when the knife has slit
The throat across from ear to ear
 'Twill bleed because of it."

Under the stars the air was light
 But dark below the boughs,
The still air of the speechless night,
 When lovers crown their vows.

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