Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.025 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 Fisherman

by Lady Jane Wilde

−0.2534 − 0.1683i

Drawing the boundary…

Matin Song

by Thomas Heywood

−0.2589 − 0.1922i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Fisherman

by Lady Jane Wilde

The water rushes—the water foams—
A fisherman sat on the bank,
And calmly gazed on his flowing line,
As it down in the deep wave sank,
The water rushes—the water foams—
The bright waves part asunder,
And with wondering eyes he sees arise
A nymph from the caverns under.

She sprang to him—she sang to him—
Ah! wherefore dost thou tempt
With thy deadly food, my bright-scaled brood
From out their crystal element?
Could'st thou but know our joy below,
Thou would'st leave the harsh, cold land,
And dwell in our caves 'neath the glittering waves,
As lord of our sparkling band.

See you not now the bright sun bow
To gaze on his form here;
And the pale moon's face wears a softer grace
In the depths of our silver sphere.
See the fleecy shroud of the azure cloud
In the heaven beneath the sea;
And look at thine eyes, what a glory lies
In their lustre.

The water rushes—the water foams—
The cool wave kiss'd his feet.
The maiden's eyes were like azure skies,
And her voice was low and sweet.
She sung to him—she clung to him—
O'er the glittering stream they lean;
Half drew she him, half sunk he in,
And never more was seen.

Matin Song

by Thomas Heywood

Pack, clouds, away! and welcome, day!
With night we banish sorrow.
Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft
To give my Love good-morrow!
Wings from the wind to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow:
Bird, prune thy wing! nightingale, sing!
To give my Love good-morrow!
To give my Love good-morrow
Notes from them all I'll borrow.

Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast!
Sing, birds, in every furrow!
And from each bill let music shrill
Give my fair Love good-morrow!
Blackbird and thrush in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cocksparrow,
You pretty elves, among yourselves
Sing my fair Love good-morrow!
To give my Love good-morrow!
Sing, birds, in every furrow!

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