Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.028 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.

Lines for a Picture of St. Dorothea

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

−0.1326 − 0.5742i

Drawing the boundary…

Ode on Solitude

by Alexander Pope

−0.1581 − 0.5639i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Lines for a Picture of St. Dorothea

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

I bear a basket lined with grass.
I' am so' light' and fair'
Men are amazed to watch me pass
With' the básket I bear',
Which in newly drawn green litter
Carries treats of sweet for bitter.

See my lilies: lilies none,
None in Caesar's garden blow.
Quínces, look', when' not one'
Is set in any orchard; no,
Not set because their buds not spring;
Spring not for world is wintering.

But' they came' from' the South',
Where winter-while is all forgot.—
The dew-bell in the mallow's mouth
Is' it quenchèd or not'?
In starry, starry shire it grew:
Which' is it', star' or dew'?—

That a quince I pore upon?
O no it is the sizing moon.
Now her mallow-row is gone
In tufts of evening sky.— So soon?
Sphered so fast, sweet soul?— We see
Fruit nor flower nor Dorothy.

How to name it, blessed it!
Suiting its grace with him or her?
Dorothea—or was your writ
Sérvéd bý méssenger'?
Your parley was not done and there!
You went into the partless air.

It waned into the world of light,
Yet made its market here as well:
My eyes hold yet the rinds and bright
Remainder of a miracle.
O this is bringing! Tears may swarm
Indeed while such a wonder's warm.

Ah dip in blood the palmtree pen
And wordy warrants are flawed through.
More will wear this wand and then
The warpèd world we shall undo.
Proconsul!— Is Sapricius near?—
I find another Christian here.

Ode on Solitude

by Alexander Pope

Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day.

Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mix'd; sweet recreation;
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

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