"To noble heart Love doth for shelter fly,
As seeks the bird the forest's leafy shade;
Love was not felt till noble heart beat high,
Nor before love the noble heart was made.
Soon as the sun's broad flame
Was formed, so soon the clear light filled the air;
Yet was not till he came:
So love springs up in noble breasts, and there
Has its appointed space,
As heat in the bright flames finds its allotted place.
Kindles in noble heart the fire of love,
As hidden virtue in the precious stone:
This virtue comes not from the stars above,
Till round it the ennobling sun has shone;
But when his powerful blaze
Has drawn forth what was vile, the stars impart
Strange virtue in their rays;
And thus when Nature doth create the heart
Noble and pure and high,
Like virtue from the star, love comes from woman's eye."
I close my eyes as I breathe in the hearty goodness of the spring air, hear the wonderful songs of the birds, and feel the damp, fresh earth under my feet. Lovely poem, I thought, no wonder Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s ‘The Nature of Love’ is considered a great work of art. The piece brings back memories, bittersweet, yet worthy of remembering.
It’s a little bothering when a few refuse to try to listen, smell, and feel. Most of them believe in the saying “seeing is believing”. But, really, how would one define the term seeing, once you’ve taken out the part where you use your sense of sight?
BINABASA MO ANG
Through Your Eyes
OverigHi, my imaginary online readers! Okay, jk about the imaginary part(still, I hope somebody's reading this). This is my first time to write a short story. I hope you find it decent enough to read. I am open to any comments and suggestions. Go easy on...
