Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.016 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 Pause of Thought

by Christina Rossetti

0.6066 − 0.3069i

Drawing the boundary…

Bonnie Joann

by Violet Jacob

0.6203 − 0.2983i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

A Pause of Thought

by Christina Rossetti

I looked for that which is not, nor can be,
And hope deferred made my heart sick in truth
But years must pass before a hope of youth
Is resigned utterly.

I watched and waited with a steadfast will:
And though the object seemed to flee away
That I so longed for, ever day by day
I watched and waited still.

Sometimes I said: This thing shall be no more;
My expectation wearies and shall cease;
I will resign it now and be at peace:
Yet never gave it o'er.

Sometimes I said: It is an empty name
I long for; to a name why should I give
The peace of all the days I have to live?—
Yet gave it all the same.

Alas, thou foolish one! alike unfit
For healthy joy and salutary pain:
Thou knowest the chase useless, and again
Turnest to follow it.

Bonnie Joann

by Violet Jacob

We've stookit the hairst an' we're needin'
To gaither it in,
Syne, gin the morn's dry, we'll be leadin'
An' wark'll begin;
But noo I'll awa doon the braeside
My lane, while I can—
Wha kens wha he'll meet by the wayside,
My bonnie Joann?

East yonder, the hairst-fields are hidin'
The sea frae my een,
Gin ye keek whaur the stooks are dividin'
Ye'll see it atween.
Sae douce an' sae still it has sleepit
Since hairst-time began
Like my he'rt—gin ye'd tak' it an' keep it
My bonnie Joann.

Owre a'thing the shadows gang trailin',
Owre stubble an' strae;
Frae the hedge to the fit o' the pailin'
They rax owre the way;
But the sun may gang through wi' his beamin'
An' traivel his span,
For aye, by the licht o' my dreamin',
I see ye, Joann.

Awa frae ye, naebody's braver,
Mair wise-like an' bauld,
Aside ye, I hech an' I haver,
I'm het an' I'm cauld;
But oh! could I tell wi'out speakin'
The he'rt o' a man,
Ye micht find I'm the lad that ye're seekin',
My bonnie Joann!

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