So We'll Go No More a Roving and It was not Death, for I stood up — compare fractals

Side by side

0.016 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.

−0.3565 − 0.7156i

−0.3695 − 0.7056i

The poems

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

So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart still be as loving,
And the moon still be as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul outwears the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

It was not death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down —
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos — crawl —
Nor Fire — for just my marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool —

And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial
Reminded me, of mine —

As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some —

When everything that ticked — has stopped —
And space stares — all around —
Or Grisly frosts — first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground —

But most, like Chaos — Stopless — cool —
Without a Chance, or spar —
Or even a Report of Land —
To justify — Despair.