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There is a life of lightest ever breeze,
Plain-hearted, warm and fine as cotton;
A neighbor with a girl by green fence trees
Talk most tenderly at early dusk, eavesdropped on
By none but honeybees.
But we live straight and arduously, and master
Our bitter ceremonies' masquerade
Prepared that an abrupt prancing gust would
Divide a phrase with its relentless blade.
For nothing in the world we'll, though, trade
The granite walls of glory and disaster,
Vast silent streams, in shining ice arrayed,
Gray sunless gardens in eternal shade
And voice of Muse the Whispercaster.
http://akhmatova.org/verses/verses/089.htm