Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.024 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.

Death of an Infant

by Lydia Huntley Sigourney

−0.3319 + 0.8013i

Drawing the boundary…

The day is gone

by John Keats

−0.3506 + 0.7862i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Death of an Infant

by Lydia Huntley Sigourney

Death found strange beauty on that polished brow
And dashed it out.—
                                  There was a tint of rose
On cheek and lip.— He touched the veins with ice,
And the rose faded.—
                                    Forth from those blue eyes
There spake a wishful tenderness, a doubt
Whether to grieve or sleep, which innocence
Alone may wear.— With ruthless haste he bound
The silken fringes of those curtaining lids
Forever.—
                  There had been a murmuring sound,
With which the babe would claim its mother's ear,
Charming her even to tears.— The Spoiler set
His seal of silence.—
                                   But there beamed a smile
So fixed, so holy, from that cherub brow,
Death gazed—and left it there .—
                                                      He dared not steal
The signet-ring of Heaven.

 

The day is gone

by John Keats

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone,
Bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and lang’rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –
Vanish’d unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday – or holinight
Of fragrant-curtain’d love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight,
But, as I’ve read love’s missal through to-day,
He’ll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.

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