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.

The Call

by Jessie Pope

−0.3536 − 0.7807i

Drawing the boundary…

East Kennet Church at Evening

by Charles Sorley

−0.3342 − 0.7608i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Call

by Jessie Pope

Who's for the trench—
Are you, my laddie
Who'll follow French—
Will you, my laddie
Who's fretting to begin,
Who's going out to win
And who wants to save his skin—
Do you, my laddie

Who's for the khaki suit—
Are you, my laddie
Who longs to charge and shoot—
Do you, my laddie
Who's keen on getting fit,
Who means to show his grit,
And who'd rather wait a bit—
Would you, my laddie

Who'll earn the Empire's thanks—
Will you, my laddie
Who'll swell the victor's ranks—
Will you, my laddie
When that procession comes,
Banners and rolling drums—
Who'll stand and bite his thumbs—
Will you, my laddie

East Kennet Church at Evening

by Charles Sorley

I stood amongst the corn, and watched
The evening coming down.
The rising vale was like a queen,
And the dim church her crown.

Crown-like it stood against the hills.
Its form was passing fair.
I almost saw the tribes go up
To offer incense there.

And far below the long vale stretched.
As a sleeper she did seem
That after some brief restlessness
Has now begun to dream.

(All day the wakefulness of men,
Their lives and labours brief,
Have broken her long troubled sleep.
Now, evening brings relief.)

There was no motion there, nor sound.
She did not seem to rise.
Yet was she wrapping herself in
Her grey of night-disguise.

For now no church nor tree nor fold
Was visible to me:
Only that fading into one
Which God must sometimes see.

No coloured glory streaked the sky
To mark the sinking sun.
There was no redness in the west
To tell that day was done.

Only, the greyness of the eve
Grew fuller than before.
And, in its fulness, it made one
Of what had once been more.

There was much beauty in that sight
That man must not long see.
God dropped the kindly veil of night
Between its end and me.

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