Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.004 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 Redbreast

by Charlotte Richardson

−0.4540 − 0.6537i

Drawing the boundary…

The Resignation

by Thomas Chatterton

−0.4580 − 0.6517i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Redbreast

by Charlotte Richardson

Cold blew the freezing northern blast,
And winter sternly frowned;
The flaky snow fell thick and fast,
And clad the fields around.

Forced by the storm’s relentless power,
Emboldened by despair,
A shivering redbreast sought my door,
Some friendly warmth to share.

‘Welcome, sweet bird!’ I fondly cried,
‘No danger need’st thou fear,
Secure with me thou may’st abide,
Till warmer suns appear.

‘And when mild spring comes smiling on,
And bids the fields look gay,
Thou, with thy sweet, thy grateful song,
My kindness shalt repay.’

Mistaken thought! — But how shall I
The mournful truth display?
An envious cat, with jealous eye,
Had marked him as her prey.

Remorseless wretch! — her cruel jaws
Soon sealed her victim’s doom,
While I in silence mourn his loss,
And weep o’er robin’s tomb.

So, oft in life’s uneven way,
Some stroke may intervene;
Sweep all our fancied joys away,
And change the flattering scene.

The Resignation

by Thomas Chatterton

O God, whose thunder shakes the sky,
Whose eye this atom globe surveys,
To thee, my only rock, I fly,
Thy mercy in thy justice praise.

The mystic mazes of thy will,
The shadows of celestial light,
Are past the pow'r of human skill,—
But what th' Eternal acts is right.

O teach me in the trying hour,
When anguish swells the dewy tear,
To still my sorrows, own thy pow'r,
Thy goodness love, thy justice fear.

If in this bosom aught but Thee
Encroaching sought a boundless sway,
Omniscience could the danger see,
And Mercy look the cause away.

Then why, my soul, dost thou complain?
Why drooping seek the dark recess?
Shake off the melancholy chain.
For God created all to bless.

But ah! my breast is human still;
The rising sigh, the falling tear,
My languid vitals' feeble rill,
The sickness of my soul declare.

But yet, with fortitude resigned,
I'll thank th' inflicter of the blow;
Forbid the sigh, compose my mind,
Nor let the gush of mis'ry flow.

The gloomy mantle of the night,
Which on my sinking spirit steals,
Will vanish at the morning light,
Which God, my East, my sun reveals.

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