Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.040 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.

Paris in Spring

by Sara Teasdale

−0.5561 − 0.5126i

Drawing the boundary…

Sympathy

by Francis Hastings Doyle

−0.5278 − 0.5410i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Paris in Spring

by Sara Teasdale

The city's all a-shining
Beneath a fickle sun,
A gay young wind's a-blowing,
The little shower is done.
But the rain-drops still are clinging
And falling one by one—
Oh, it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time has begun.

I know the Bois is twinkling
In a sort of hazy sheen,
And down the Champs the gray old arch
Stands cold and still between.
But the walk is flecked with sunlight
Where the great acacias lean,
Oh, it's Paris, it's Paris,
And the leaves are growing green.

The sun 's gone in, the sparkle's dead,
There falls a dash of rain,
But who would care when such an air
Comes blowing up the Seine?
And still Ninette sits sewing
Beside her window-pane,
When it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time's come again.

Sympathy

by Francis Hastings Doyle

The dew-drop is a trivial thing,
Yet it lends freshness to the rose,
When diamonds, from the sun would fling,
New withering on her wan repose.

With pride of their own lustre fired,
The unloving gems burn on in vain;
The humble dew-drop, love inspired,
Can wake the flower to life again.

Judge not a gift from outward show,
Nor test it by its actual worth;
These are its body, far below,
Its soul, is that which gives it birth.

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