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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…
“Poetry lives on love, and love is nothing but the worship of woman.”
Luis G. Dato, Philippines Herald Mid-week Magazine, April 6, 1932
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…
by Luis G. Dato I will not cry at parting for my pain,Though henceforth through the endless days aloneI whom you taught so shall not call my ownYour love nor turn back to your paths again;I shall not weep above…
by Luis G. Dato I cannot deem it that the word has beenUttered between us that our way must part,And that the sun declining to its greenShore in the west divides us in the heart.We were together when the morning…
by Luis G. Dato I still remember of the happy time,When we two met upon the downs in May,The sun at morn shone in its pride’s pale day,There sounded in the sky the belfry’s chime.‘Twas morning in our world, and…
by Luis G. Dato That you could thus forget so easily,The day whose memory I made a shrine,The smile you gave me cheeringly as wineWhen a fair one pours it and tempts us try,Holding with hand whose glow out-charms the…
by Luis G. Dato I had long loved in silence until then;You were my dream, and in the dark of night,Your face in youth was as a moon whose lightBrightened my life’s so melancholy lane.I saw your face and it…
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…
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…
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…
“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…
by Luis G. Dato After we’re fifty, what to us the meedOr garden, or what mystic meaning yetMay Christmas hold or memory forget,Which the heart spurns and will refuse to heed;The thorns of what late flowers may make bleedThe heart…
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…