Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.023 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.

Hallowe'en

by Violet Jacob

0.0560 − 0.4223i

Drawing the boundary…

We Wear the Mask

by Paul Laurence Dunbar

0.0367 − 0.4348i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Hallowe'en

by Violet Jacob

The tattie-liftin's nearly through,
They're ploughin' whaur the barley grew,
And aifter dark, roond ilka stack,
Ye'll see the horsemen stand an' crack
O Lachlan, but I mind o' you!

I mind foo often we hae seen
Ten thoosand stars keek doon atween
The nakit branches, an' below
Baith fairm an' bothie hae their show,
Alowe wi' lichts o' Hallowe'en.

There's bairns wi' guizards at their tail
Clourin' the doors wi' runts o' kail,
And fine ye'll hear the skreichs an' skirls
O' lassies wi' their droukit curls
Bobbin' for aipples i' the pail.

The bothie fire is loupin' het,
A new heid horseman's kist is set
Richts o' the lum; whaur by the blaze
The auld ane stude that kept yer claes—
I canna thole to see it yet!

But gin the auld fowks' tales are richt
An ghaists come hame on Hallow nicht,
O freend o' freends! what wad I gie
To feel ye rax yer hand to me
Atween the dark an' caun'le licht?

Awa in France, across the wave,
The wee lichts burn on ilka grave,
An' you an' me their lowe hae seen—
Ye'll mebbe hae yer Hallowe'en
Yont, whaur ye're lyin' wi' the lave.

There's drink an' daffin', sang an' dance
And ploys and kisses get their chance,
But Lachlan, man, the place I see
Is whaur the auld kist used to be
And the lichts o' Hallowe'en in France!

We Wear the Mask

by Paul Laurence Dunbar

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

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