Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.009 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.

Elegy in April and September

by Wilfred Owen

0.0530 − 0.3092i

Drawing the boundary…

The Gallant Weaver

by Robert Burns

0.0468 − 0.3030i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Elegy in April and September

by Wilfred Owen

Hush, thrush!
Hush, missen-thrush, I listen
I heard the flush of footsteps through the loose leaves,
And a low whistle by the water's brim.

Be still, daffodil!
And wave me not so bravely.
Your gay gold lily daunts me and deceives,
Who follow gleams more golden and more slim.

Look, brook!
O run and look, O run!
The vain reeds shook…Yet search till gray sea heaves,
And I will wind among these fields for him.

Gaze, daisy!
Stare up through haze and glare,
And mark the hazardous stars all dawns and eves,
For my eye withers, and his star wanes dim.

Close, rose, and droop, heliotrope,
And shudder, hope! The shattering winter blows.
Drop, heliotrope, and close, rose…

Mourn, corn, and sigh, rye.
Men garner you, but youth's head lies forlorn.
Sigh, rye, and mourn, corn…

Brood, wood, and muse, yews,
The ways gods use we have not understood.
Muse, yews, and brood, wood…

The Gallant Weaver

by Robert Burns

Where Cart rins rowin to the sea,
By mony a flow'r and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me,
He is a gallant weaver.
Oh, I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
And I was fear'd my heart would tine,
And I gied it to the weaver.

My daddie sign'd my tocher-band,
To gie the lad that has the land;
But to my heart I'll add my hand,
And gie it to the weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers;
While bees delight in op'ning flowers;
While corn grows green in simmer showers,
I'll love my gallant weaver.

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