Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.023 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.

Rich or Poor

by Edgar A. Guest

−0.0962 − 0.6704i

Drawing the boundary…

To the River Charles

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

−0.1106 − 0.6889i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Rich or Poor

by Edgar A. Guest

The use of money marks the man.
The wrong is not in having gold;
All men should gather what they can
In other ways is failure told.

The sin lies not in growing rich
But in forgetfulness of pain
And all the bitter suffering which
Beset the men who poor remain.

No virtue lies in poverty,
Poor men may be as vile or worse
And fail God's purpose utterly
As those who may be rich of purse.

Within the sphere where we may dwell
The test is not of yellow gain,
But do we use our talents well?
Does sympathy in us remain?

'Tis not the role that makes the priest,
'Tis not the purse that makes the man.
The proof of greatest and of least
Is: Does he do the best he can?

To the River Charles

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

River! that in silence windest
Through the meadows, bright and free,
Till at length thy rest thou findest
In the bosom of the sea!

Four long years of mingled feeling,
Half in rest, and half in strife,
I have seen thy waters stealing
Onward, like the stream of life.

Thou hast taught me, Silent River!
Many a lesson, deep and long;
Thou hast been a generous giver;
I can give thee but a song.

Oft in sadness and in illness,
I have watched thy current glide,
Till the beauty of its stillness
Overflowed me, like a tide.

And in better hours and brighter,
When I saw thy waters gleam,
I have felt my heart beat lighter,
And leap onward with thy stream.

Not for this alone I love thee,
Nor because thy waves of blue
From celestial seas above thee
Take their own celestial hue.

Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee,
And thy waters disappear,
Friends I love have dwelt beside thee,
And have made thy margin dear.

More than this;—thy name reminds me
Of three friends, all true and tried;
And that name, like magic, binds me
Closer, closer to thy side.

Friends my soul with joy remembers!
How like quivering flames they start,
When I fan the living embers
On the hearth-stone of my heart!

'T is for this, thou Silent River!
That my spirit leans to thee;
Thou hast been a generous giver,
Take this idle song from me.

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