THE SAMPAGUITA Natividad Marquez

Little sampaguita
With the wondering eye
Did a tiny fair
Drop you where you lie?
In the witching hour
Of the tropic night
Did the careless moonbeam
Leave you in its fight?

To My Native Land

My country! In thy days of glory past
A beauteous halo circled round thy brow
and worshipped as a deity thou wast—
Where is thy glory, where the reverence now?
Thy eagle pinion is chained down at last,
And grovelling in the lowly dust art thou,
Thy minstrel hath no wreath to weave for thee
Save the sad story of thy misery!
Well—let me dive into the depths of time
And bring from out the ages, that have rolled
A few small fragments of these wrecks sublime
Which human eye may never more behold
And let the guerdon of my labour be,
My fallen country! One kind wish for thee!

Quietness by Amador T. Daguio

I am lovers of all quietness
unechoed songs within a silent heart,
a silver pond, a statued loveness
where words can take no part.

i love the quiet ways of memory
the quiet looks to give you loving praise,
the quite secrets of my misery
through quiet nights and days.

The quiet mountains of the earth i love,
the moving clouds the sun, the dewy leaf
my quiet questioning of god above,
my quite, tearless grief.

maria clara's song by jose rizal

Sweet are the hours in one's own Native Land,
All there is friendly o'er which the sun shines above;
Vivifying is the breeze that wafts over her fields;
Even death is gratifying and more tender is love.

Ardent kissed on a mother's lips are at play,
On her lap, upon the infant child's awakening,
The extended arms do seek her neck to entwine,
And the eyes at each other's glimpse are smiling.

It is sweet to die in one's own Native Land,
All there is friendly o'er which the sun shines above;
And deathly is the breeze for one without
A country, without a mother and without love.

Song

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches the body,
in thought constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,

but we carry the weight wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love-- be mad or chill
obsessed with angels or machines,
the final wish is love
--cannot be bitter, cannot deny,
cannot withhold if denied:

the weight is too heavy

--must give
for no return as thought
is given in solitude
in all the excellence of its excess.

The warm bodies shine together
in the darkness, the hand moves
to the center of the flesh,
the skin trembles in happiness
and the soul comes joyful to the eye--

yes, yes, that's what
I wanted, I always wanted,
I always wanted, to return
to the body where I was born.

THE SEA By Natividad Marquez

Why does the sea laugh, Mother,
As it glints beneath the sun?
It is thinking of the joys, my child,
That it wishes every one.
Why does the sea sob so, Mother,
As it breaks on the rocky shore?
It recalls the sorrows of the world.
And weeps forevermore.
Why is the sea so peaceful, Mother,
As if it were fast asleep?
It would give our tired hearts, dearest child,
The comfort of the deep.

Ballad of a Mother's Heart

The night was dark,
For the moon was young,
And the Stars were asleep and rare,
The clouds were thick,
Yet Youth went out,
To see his Maiden fair.

Dear one,
he pleaded as he knelt before her feet in tears.
My love is true,
Why you have kept me waiting all this years?
The maiden looked at him.
Unmoved it seemed,
And whispered low.

Persistent Youth,
You have to prove by deeds,
Your love is true.
"There's not a thing
I haven't do for you,Beloved" said he.
"Then, go." said she. "To your mother dear,
And bring her heart to me.

Without another word,
Youth left and went to his mother dear.
He opened her breast and took her HEART!
But he did not shed a tear.

Then back to his Maiden fair,
He run unmindful of the rain.
But his feet slipped, And he fell down,
And load, he groan with pain!

And then, he held the prize,
That would win his Maiden's hands.
But he thought of his mother dear,
So kind,so sweet,so fond

But then,
he heard a voice!
Not from his lips,
But all apart!

"Get up" it said.
"Are you hurt,Child?"
It was his mother's heart
The ballad of a Mother's heart.