Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.032 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 Candle Indoors

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

0.0558 + 0.3030i

Drawing the boundary…

To a Young Murderess

by Arthur O'Shaughnessy

0.0261 + 0.3142i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Candle Indoors

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Some candle clear burns somewhere I come by.
I muse at how its being puts blissful back
With yellowy moisture mild night's blear-all black,
Or to-fro tender trambeams truckle at the eye.
By that window what task what fingers ply,
I plod wondering, a-wanting, just for lack
Of answer the eagerer a-wanting Jessy or Jack
There God to aggrándise, God to glorify.—

Come you indoors, come home; your fading fire
Mend first and vital candle in close heart's vault:
You there are master, do your own desire;
What hinders? Are you beam-blind, yet to a fault
In a neighbour deft-handed? Are you that liar
And cast by conscience out, spendsavour salt?

To a Young Murderess

by Arthur O'Shaughnessy

Fair yellow murderess, whose gilded head
Gleaming with deaths; whose deadly body white, 
Writ o’er with secret records of the dead;
Whose tranquil eyes, that hide the dead from sight 
Down in their tenderest depth and bluest bloom;
Whose strange unnatural grace, whose prolonged youth, 
Are for my death now and the shameful doom
Of all the man I might have been in truth,

Your fell smile, sweetened still, lest I might shun 
Its lingering murder, with a kiss for lure, 
Is like the fascinating steel that one 
Most vengeful in his last revenge, and sure 
The victim lies beneath him, passes slow, 
Again and oft again before his eyes, 
And over all his frame, that he may know 
And suffer the whole death before he dies.

Will you not slay me? Stab me; yea, somehow, 
Deep in the heart: say some foul word to last, 
And let me hate you as I love you now. 
Oh, would I might but see you turn and cast 
That false fair beauty that you e’en shall lose, 
And fall down there and writhe about my feet, 
The crooked loathly viper I shall bruise 
Through all eternity: — 
                                         Nay, kiss me, Sweet!

—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
Skip to main content