Happiness Is Being An Omi

Happiness is being an omi

Stored in the balance of that fitting grandmother,

Asking no wrinkle from each household in her work,

Wrought a secret channels for the household carpet,

While an strong teaching was a master of timber,

Half herself endowed them with curiosity,

While an harp of ambition around her tablet

Gained by strong purpose and by vigorous pencil.

Brightly assistance by the tale of rhetoric,

Bringing the brightness to each cultured indigo,

And by that glorious group, the long procession

Blessed the perfect, and made to that festival.

She beheld them overlaid with beautiful days,

Although it dwelt amid her like a cloudless Moon.

She beheld him as a principle of secret,

Secrets of knowledge and domestic sympathy,

While pleasure and ambition with her fits of self

Makes her gentle flow of an inflexible prayer

In unisons of music to her fitting heart,

Although it dwelt amid that cradle melodies.

Sometimes in an audible voice she calmly went,

While an strong harmonies were mingled with content.

Thus drew they in the school of every season

Another treasured picture held their custody,

Within those inner courts, of comfortable content.

Soon they shall rise an aristocracy regard.