Here's a poem that is full of repetition; and since my days are full of patterns, and the rain, too, repeats and repeats, I will copy it down for you, and perhaps it will drive you crazy, or perhaps you will like it.
Poem 160 from the Devonshire ManuscriptSir Thomas Wyatt
I abide and abide and better abide,And after the olde prouerbe, the happie daye;And ever my ladye to me dothe saye:"Let me alone and I will prouyde."I abide and abide and tarrye the tide,And with abiding spede well ye maye:Thus do I abide I wott allwaye,Nother obtayning nor yet denied.Aye me! this long abidyingSemithe to me as who sayetheA prolonging of a dieng detheOr a refusing of a desyred thing.Moche ware it bettre for to be playneThen to saye "abide" and yet shall not obtayne.
Dinner tonight: casserole-roasted pork, first dry-marinated in sage, salt, and green peppercorns; spoonbread; cucumber salad; plum flan.