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

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