Category SONNET

“Poetry lives on love, and love is nothing but the worship of woman.”

Luis G. Dato, Philippines Herald Mid-week Magazine, April 6, 1932

stephentalla Against the time did I prepare my heart When blind df0127b1 f658 48d7 8005 462156d7e1f7 XXX


Against the time did I prepare my heart,When blind no more to harsh reality,The veil must fall from dream and revery,And mine no more, your ways and mine must part;I sought God’s shrines, I asked the science, artOf the kind…

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stephentalla Tonight the flowers will each one send Unto the ni 8e27c70d b917 403e a7b5 a5446c66b0f7 XII


by Luis G. Dato Tonight, the flowers will each one sendUnto the night-borne zephyrs rare perfume,And down the gleamless alleys of late gloomThe smell of fruit and scent of rose will blendsTonight, the trees will murmur and will bendWith whispered…

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stephentalla When far enisled from tumult that alarms From the 0edbca20 ae67 4cbe b7a1 f04a43870dd3 X


by Luis G. Dato When far enisled from tumult that alarms,From the hysteria of the madding street,Our hearts to one resistless impulse beat,While to your ardour passion slowly warms,When pillowed on the incense of your arms,I feel the sky and…

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stephentalla At times I see a gleaming white sailed boat With s d8ea3bc0 e4b3 42fe b6dc 20bfb6e5176d IV


by Luis G. Dato At times I see a gleaming white-sailed boat,With soundless oar glide past a lake shore wild,Where in profusion strange were strangely piledWhite lilies such as fairies might have wrought;At times transported to such shores remote,My sighing…

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stephentalla I am who images of Beauty paint Only to find the f a0ac7c66 0d8d 4bdd aae8 77638bdfcabb I


“With apologies to Shakespeare, whose sonnet sequence of 136 sonnets is exceeded (quantitatively, that is) by the present” — Luis G. Dato by Luis G. Dato A bard I am who comradeless the wayRewander with a sigh within my songViewing…

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stephentalla rice harvest as a birth of beauty be047be5 49d9 43fe a00d b4b38564a484 Two Sonnets

Two Sonnets

By Luis Dato Harvest ‘Mid stalks low-bending with sun-ripened grain,You loomed upon my ravished, sinful eyes;I listened lost in wondering surprise,While in the evening rang your sweet refrain.Weeping, I wished I were some hamlet swain,And, like him, quietened into looks…

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