'It's fine here: the rustle and crackle;'


It's fine here: the rustle and crackle;
A hard frost every day,
On the bush bowed with white fire,
Icy, dazzling roses.
And on the formal magnificent snow
Tracks of skis, like memories,
Of how, in some far-off century,
You and I were here, together.


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add 'It's fine here: the rustle and crackle;' to your own personal library.

Return to the Anna Akhmatova Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; 'It was not mystery or grief,'

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson