sonnenizio based on a first line
by Elizabeth Barret Browning
The face of all the world is changed, I think,
when the young surge futureless, their faces
smooth steel, disaffected. I see the underside
of their happiness, wires exposed, and the world
can’t convince them to stop, connect to all the color.
Monochromatic souls, they crowd together, all alone,
don’t think how the color scale of grass slides daily,
how the light spectrum renders all stunning, all strange,
at various hours. The faces of plants and animals
contort, soften with a human sense of timing, change
their expressions from play to tawny rest. But I imagine
the young find frivolity unconvincing, think it weak
to freely shift. They exchange shadows only at night,
turn aside their faces from the discerning light.