by Luis G. Dato
The town is quiet, the houses still,
And the dark house of God,
The heroes slumber up the hill,
And in my heart, their blood.
Again I see a gay procession,
And men in bright attire,
A hundred delegates in session,
And soldiers in the mire.
Malolos, once you rent asunder
A striding tyrant’s heels,
A day as this that sees us thunder
Down you with iron wheels.
— The Herald Mid-Weekly Magazine
August 23, 1939
Malolos by Luis G. Dato
