Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.033 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.

A Hunting Song

by Amelia Alderson Opie

−0.2781 − 0.0717i

Drawing the boundary…

Royal Palm

by Hart Crane

−0.2618 − 0.1006i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

A Hunting Song

by Amelia Alderson Opie

To the chace let's away the hounds are in sight,
And hark their full tones to the forest invite.
See they lead — let's pursue
For the Fox is in view,
Hark away hark hark away
To the sport of the day.

Who'd tarry behind such joys being nigh
As the Fox full in sight, and the hounds full in cry.
O the joys of the chace,
See he slackens his pace,
See he pants as he flies,
Now he totters and dies.

Not long was the sport, but each joyous soul
In song shall renew it at night o'er the bowl.
Sly Reynard again shall die in the strain
While the sport breathing song,
We in chorus prolong
And cry while mirth beams on each health-speaking face
'No joys sure can equal the joys of the chace.'

Royal Palm

by Hart Crane

Green rustlings, more-than-regal charities
Drift coolly from that tower of whispered light.
Amid the noontide's blazed asperities
I watched the sun's most gracious anchorite

Climb up as by communings, year on year
Uneaten of the earth or aught earth holds,
And the grey trunk, that's elephantine, rear
Its frondings sighing in aetherial folds.

Forever fruitless, and beyond that yield
Of sweat the jungle presses with hot love
And tendril till our deathward breath is sealed—
It grazes the horizons, launched above

Mortality—ascending emerald-bright,
A fountain at salute, a crown in view—
Unshackled, casual of its azured height
As though it soared suchwise through heaven too.

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