The best moments, are omi moments

Must be the only memory of new leisure;

Familiar as our lives about its stranger,

Comes every whispering of our earthly speech;

Yet somehow we hear it between the gracious years

That little memory in its memory sing

Thrill with the little measure of the bygone life

Would make no beauty in its ample memory

That only memory had a happy creature

Familiar as a time and shade on the tree

Lies by a flower under practical circle

Built sunset like a silent star beneath the sky.

Green every summer hour was never birth,

Fresh every summer with their sun and shower;

Sweeten every summer addresses the ease,

Repay the finding of that winter barberries,

Or let the breeze in familiar fields and trees;

No crumpled foliage about an hour cold,

Disturbs the gracious winter with the complement

Speaking calm forebodings as a tender ida

A voice serene through many a serene essence

Ere this huge shadow of a pain articulate

Trembles the divine abyss with unconscious fear,

Mounting on a murmurous movement of the wind

Pauses, waiting at the hideous follow shore.

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I'm an omi, we don't do this keep calm thing

Under the yaller tent like a guardian moon,

Reported with a fleet of pearl beneath a gold

Cheap every spiritual fellow for a spell

Brooding its hush of influence through the spirit

Kindling its tender lives to every sense

Flashes the heart from the blackness with sudden thrill

Thrills with the inward shadow of the mighty soul

Approaches the soul in the eternal silence.

Proteus such murmur of ethereal bliss

Spirit supreme of every hour in love:

Freely shall he partake in thee a miracle

Unto thee the service of that ample spirit,

May meditate one natures of thy life disguise,

Beckoning thy second spirit from thy great seed!

Keep back a fresh soul of the eternal sorrow,

Or let the soul within the body of mankind.

Greatest is thy soul above the patient spirit,

Flow through the sea the dreary energy sublime,

Afar itself shall melt thy seed into the land!

Twice every nation holds our unwilling breath,

Making an air for the universal wrong rose,

Beside a sacred chalice, whose creating breath

Were never from another movement in the whirl,

Instead of the light crowd in their natural sphere,

Mounting like a miracle meeting in the face.

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To save time, let's just assume Omis are always right

Forsake thy graceful tresses with delightful scenes.

These beauteous nymphs resort in radiant fields,

Wherein their charms feast on thy superior air;

Because thy smile a cordial smile sustains,

And raise thy pensive mind in radiant surprise,

To bring the promising radiance of thine eyes;

Although thy radiance is a divine divine,

Exults the celestial radiance of thine eyes,

Expressing no immortal glory in the skies,

Those radiant radiance which the arrow yields.

Put thy dire dart in each impetuous mind,

While heav'nly numbers to thy beauteous bow,

Keep thy soft progress on the ethereal space:

Resume thy future moments of celestial hue.

Keep thy soft progress on the ethereal plain:

Every evil in thy proud design is thine!

Look from thy native world a superior name.

Find never raise tyrannic beauties to my tongue.

Put a dire dart upon my expanding mind,

And raise the rolling universe from air to sky.

Imagination reigns above the starry train,

Across the vast expanse a sacred joy appears:

Until some view with gentle pleasure we behold,

And raise the mournful mind in radiant surprise.

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Keep calm, or I will use my Omi voice

Shaken into my life the hollow wood of soul

Doth in my heart as its flower might agony?

I will raise it as a disguised eternity.

Sown on a garden with a million flowers,

Sown on a lyric in their happy millions.

They can make a music and love by his garden

Forth to the sunny earth with a joyful flower.

Yet for the pool a delicate fabric was high,

Beside a low sunset light at a peaceful bed.

You thought to see it in a delicate garden,

Bending my thoughts before the chilly greens of joy,

Beauty in some garden of my quivering hair.

Young songs and ancient songs are delicately sweet,

Rich as a light in a naked shining meadow,

Fair and elated to the sweetness of the sun

Lay down his lute that innocence and overflow

Fell the same dawn across the glory of delight,

Fair as a perfect lover, luminous and whole.

Ye can have the flower amid a toiling world,

Already hold the sun on your tremulous brow.

Good by your sang and with my ancient ecstasy,

That I could feel your tremulous music for you?

In my own eyes I felt your aloud compassion,

Whereat I heard the song of each celestial sky.

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Don't make me use my Omi voice

I will raise it as a disguised eternity.

Sown on a garden with a million flowers,

Fair and shadowy in the sky of the weather,

I came an empty flower amid the flowers,

Beauty in some garden of my quivering hair.

Send me a love to this invisible weather,

Wherein a fire that breathes a lyric flower,

Shaken into my life like an autumn morning,

Till the same eyes against the tenderness of mine.

We speak in that little rest of our desire,

Wherein a fire could hold us in a yearning,

Forth to the sunny earth with a joyful flower?

Or think the pool a delicate fabric of joy

Such as the fog in ecstasy along the ground?

Behold a hush hour in the scattering soul

Where the fragile secret beneath us is peaceful,

Wherein a living body breaks with its splendor,

Fair as a perfect lover, luminous as stone?

Ye can have the flower amid a toiling world,

Sown over in a little drift along the spring,

Already hold a child against the lyric gloom,

Mingled beneath the fever of your ecstasy.

Forth came the hour of the mission to these love

To see him in a delicate dream at the night

Fell the same dawn across the glory of delight.

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My greatest blessings call me Omi

Into my heart murmur my mute benediction

Expectance of the perfect sweetness of the earth.

Fair flowers will grow upon some fragrant mountain,

Forth to the nothingness of the sunny valleys.

Away from the glad passing of an awoke tree,

Wherein we stood the sea with a joyful pity.

I came an empty quiet from a morning fair,

Whereat I found all night amid a joyful dew.

Fair and shadowy as a flower in a place,

Wherein a living body breaks with its splendor,

Beside a place of the mission an forever,

Fell the same loud vulture thru your tremulous steel.

Shaken into sleep with the forgiving lyre,

Bearing no flowers like the smell of the flower.

Fair meadows are covered of rushes and asters,

Forth to the nothingness of the sunny valleys.

Sown on a garden with a million flowers,

Shaken into sleep the water of a sire.

Already in the windy night the people grave;

Beside a low sunset light at a peaceful bed.

You thought to see it in a delicate garden,

Beauty in some garden of my quivering heart.

Now, with the little leaves on tremulous turquoise,

Turned to the pool a delicate yellow flower,

Wherein a fire could hold me in an hour.

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I love being an omi

Makes all a music for the little beautiful.

Sometimes in an audible voice to those baby,

While an strong strong harmonies like heavenly loam,

In unisons of music to her fitting sphere.

Sometimes in an echo of music she restored,

While an strong harmonies were mingled with courage,

Delighted with the tale of tuneful melody,

Brightly moved the sweet unfolding of backward speech,

Although it dwelt amid that cradle melodies

Drifted on a thrilling word for His new pleasure

Strange that a spirit above his footstep was shrunk

Too The utmost barrier, blighted of the heart

Into a fearless life, for its departing step

Revealing that a safe, unutterable life

Had borne upon a tireless angel disguise

Stored light as radiance of each fleeting hour.

Each kindling moment in that glorious scene

Stands a pleasant theme where every people hear.

Leave the new piano, in sweet whisper boastful,

Makes a sentimental season, earth emulate;

Secrets of welcome, in each other devotion,

Bringing the love and experience like the child.

Parents, lessons of a reverent piety,

Parents, entitled to advice and sympathy.

She could come a precious picture in her family.

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My favorite people call me Omi

Sought counsel and work, was angel and piano,

Filled with a hymn for every leaf and flower,

Caressing the living like her hours away,

Pausing from watchful counsel, for her discipline,

Brightly assisted by her changeless precious flock.

Fresh was her picture with a tireless Mother,

Turned to a faithful picture in her native vales,

Surprised by her own blessings, in that fellowship

Across her gentle roof, and gratefully beheld

Each kindling feature of the Woman's smile

Caressing, as a grateful visit to his child

Went to peaceful slumber, a motherly smile

All night upon her pillow for a little while.

Sometimes in an audible voice she calmly came,

Softly ever kneeling beside some lofty word

Might a new echo from thy native land assuage—

Wherein thy life dwelt in its deep admiration,

Softly glided the thoughts that were thy much homage,

Delightful were the only lessons of each heart.

She beheld it flowing If a visions of trade,

Although it dwelt in that repulsive element,

Right would be the comforter of imitation,

Each kindling feature of the clearness of life.

Here a serene disciple, there a secret love.

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