Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.031 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 Dead Girl To Her Lover

by Nora Hopper Chesson

−0.0739 − 0.0345i

Drawing the boundary…

To Death

by Julia Ward Howe

−0.1031 − 0.0231i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

A Dead Girl To Her Lover

by Nora Hopper Chesson

I hear the hill-winds. I hear them calling
The long gray twilights and white morns through.
The tides are rising, the tides are falling,
And how will I answer or come to you?
For over my head the waves are brawling,
And I shall never come back to you!

Dark water's flowing my dark head over,
And where's the charm that shall bid it back?
Wild merrows sing, and strange fishes hover
Above my bed o' the pale sea-wrack,
And Achill sands have not kept for my lover
The fading print of my footsteps' track.

Under the sea all my nights are lonely,
Wanting a song that I used to hear.
I dream and I wake and I listen only
For the sound of your footfall kind and dear.
Avourneen deelish, your Moirin's lonely,
And is the day of our meeting near?

The hill-winds coming, the hill-winds going,
I send my voice on their wings to you,-
To you, mo bouchal, whose boat is blowing
Out where the green sea meets the blue.
Come down to me now, for there's no knowing
But the bed I lie in might yet hold two!

To Death

by Julia Ward Howe

Knock at this lowly cottage door;
Say to its drudge: Thy task is o'er.
Long labor hadst thou, scanty wage;
Thy youth scarce built to shield thine age.
Thine was the boon of hard earned bread,
The slumber of the workman's bed;
Some broken dreams, some harmless pride,
Some hopes of heaven, by few denied;
In faith and hope and charity
As thou hast done, be done to thee.

Enter, unasked, yon lordly pile
Where flatterers cringe and varlets smile.
Go where the jewels bravest flash,
The perfumes breathe, the goblets clash.
Say to each pampered inmate: Lo!
The lapse of time doth end thy show.
Thy wealth shall fill another's hand,
A stranger in thy room shall stand.
By faith and hope and charity,
As thou hast done, be done to thee.

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