Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.020 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 Bride Song

by Christina Rossetti

−0.4280 − 0.4619i

Drawing the boundary…

Watching and Wishing

by Charlotte Brontë

−0.4144 − 0.4764i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

A Bride Song

by Christina Rossetti

Through the vales to my love!
To the happy small nest of home
Green from basement to roof;
Where the honey-bees come
To the window-sill flowers,
And dive from above,
Safe from the spider that weaves
Her warp and her woof
In some outermost leaves.

Through the vales to my love!
In sweet April hours
All rainbows and showers,
While dove answers dove, –
In beautiful May,
When the orchards are tender
And frothing with flowers;
In opulent June,
When the wheat stands up slender
By sweet-smelling hay,
And half the sun’s splendour
Descends to the moon.

Through the vales to my love!
Where the turf is so soft to the feet,
And the thyme makes it sweet,
And the stately foxglove
Hangs silent its exquisite bells;
And where water wells
The greenness grows greener,
And bulrushes stand
Round a lily to screen her.

Nevertheless, if this land,
Like a garden to smell and to sight,
Were turned to a desert of sand,
Stripped bare of delight,
All its best gone to worst,
For my feet no repose,
No water to comfort my thirst,
And heaven like a furnace above,
The desert would be
As gushing of waters to me,
The wilderness be as a rose,
If it led me to thee,
O my love!

Watching and Wishing

by Charlotte Brontë

Oh, would I were the golden light
That shines around thee now,
As slumber shades the spotless white
Of that unclouded brow!
It watches through each changeful dream
Thy features' varied play;
It meets thy waking eyes' soft gleam
By dawn—by opening day.

Oh, would I were the crimson veil
Above thy couch of snow,
To dye that cheek so soft, so pale,
With my reflected glow!
Oh, would I were the cord of gold
Whose tassel set with pearls
Just meets the silken covering's fold
And rests upon thy curls,

Dishevelled in thy rosy sleep,
And shading soft thy dreams;
Across their bright and raven sweep
The golden tassel gleams!
I would be anything for thee,
My love—my radiant love—
A flower, a bird, for sympathy,
A watchful star above.

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