Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.017 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 Other Side of a Mirror

by Mary Coleridge

0.0469 − 0.4973i

Drawing the boundary…

Questing

by Joshua Henry Jones

0.0476 − 0.4800i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Other Side of a Mirror

by Mary Coleridge

I sat before my glass one day,
And conjured up a vision bare,
Unlike the aspects glad and gay,
That erst were found reflected there —
The vision of a woman, wild
With more than womanly despair.

Her hair stood back on either side
A face bereft of loveliness.
It had no envy now to hide
What once no man on earth could guess.
It formed the thorny aureole
Of hard, unsanctified distress.

Her lips were open — not a sound
Came though the parted lines of red,
Whate'er it was, the hideous wound
In silence and secret bled.
No sigh relieved her speechless woe,
She had no voice to speak her dread.

And in her lurid eyes there shone
The dying flame of life's desire,
Made mad because its hope was gone,
And kindled at the leaping fire
Of jealousy and fierce revenge,
And strength that could not change nor tire.

Shade of a shadow in the glass,
O set the crystal surface free!
Pass — as the fairer visions pass —
Nor ever more return, to be
The ghost of a distracted hour,
That heard me whisper, "I am she!"

Questing

by Joshua Henry Jones

A bird, a song, — and a leafing shrub
Sprayed with sun-balm from the sky;
Near silver stream whose ripples gleam
And a gray road's running by,
Trailing away where summers play.
Who could resist? Not I.

A book — a friend — and a happy heart
On a beck'ning shady lane,
Where verdant croft is pillow soft;
The roving soul's domain!
Ah, life is sweet where pagan feet
May scamper or remain.

A bird — a song — and a leafing shrub!
Then, vagabond, my thought
Goes jaunting by where echoes sigh
And bees their homes have wrought;
Goes 'neath the blue, a-seeking you
Where airs with love are fraught.

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