Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.020 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 Soldier

by Rupert Brooke

−0.3279 + 0.2669i

Drawing the boundary…

Mammoths

by Patrick Reginald Chalmers

−0.3477 + 0.2692i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Soldier

by Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts of England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Mammoths

by Patrick Reginald Chalmers

Up and down the high woods, up and down the low, 
Must 'a' gone a-hunting morts of years ago;
When the beaver whistled, when the aurochs ran, 
Must 'a' been a-hunting when the world began. 

For I half remember (tusk on kingly tusk) 
How I've seen the mammoths moving through the dusk: 
Mammoths all a-marching, terrible to see, 
Through an awful oak-wood glooming ghoulishly. 

Shadows huge and hairy, as the day was done, 
Somehow I remember, walking one by one, 
Bulls grotesque and solemn, pulling boughs in halves; 
Running 'neath their mothers, little idiot calves. 

Lumping through the oak-swamp, vast and dim and grey, 
I have watched the mammoths pass at dusk of day; 
Through the quaking hollow, through the tree-trunks stark, 
Gleams of mighty ivory breaking up the dark. 

That's the way I dream it, that's the way I know, 
Must 'a' gone a-hunting, years and years ago: 
For I've seen the mammoths — 'tisn't you that could — 
Moving like cathedrals through a dreadful wood. 

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