Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.034 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.

The Pilgrim of Love

by Amelia Alderson Opie

0.0284 + 0.1863i

Drawing the boundary…

Stricken

by Philip Bourke Marston

−0.0046 + 0.1955i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Pilgrim of Love

by Amelia Alderson Opie

Orynthia, my beloved!
I call in vain!
Orynthia! Orynthia!
Echo hears and calls again.
A mimic voice repeats the name around!
And with Orynthia all the rocks re-sound!

A Hermit who dwells in these solitudes, cross'd me,
As way worn and faint up the mountain I press'd,
The aged man paus'd on his staff to accost me,
And proffer'd his cell, as my mansion of rest.
Ah! nay, courteous Father, right onward I rove;
No rest but the grave for the Pilgrim of Love!

'Yet tarry, my son, till the burning noon passes,
Let boughs of the Lemon tree shelter thy head;
The juice of ripe Muscadel flows in my glasses,
And rushes, fresh pull'd, for Siesta are spread!'
Ah! nay, courteous Father, right onward I rove,
No rest but the grave for the Pilgrim of Love!

Stricken

by Philip Bourke Marston

O love, behold thy feet are shod with flame! 
Thy body clothed with torture as a dress; 
Too weak thy stricken lips are to express 
Thy mighty grief, or call upon the name 
Of Him who gives the sorrow and the shame. 
Thy lips have tasted the salt bitterness 
Of tears like blood, wrung out of thy distress. 
Thy soul must reap a barren, bitter fame. 

Fair lands beneath thee, and fair skies above. 
Thy heart falls blind, outside of that fair land 
Whereto it may not come; all words are vain, — 
It is the unattainable we love. 
But rest a little, and a friendly hand 
Shall give thee peace, and ease from all thy pain. 

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