In the golden age of romance's bloom,

Rizal emerged from shadows of gloom.

With ink as his weapon, he fought the fray,

Through verses he penned, in fervent display.

Beneath the moon's soft and silvery glow,

He spun tales of love, of anguish, of woe.

In each stanza, he etched a nation's plight,

A call to arms, to stand up and fight.

In the embrace of nature's serene embrace,

He found solace amidst life's frantic race.

Through fields of green and rivers that flow,

He envisioned a land where freedom would grow.

In Maria Clara's gaze, he found inspiration,

A symbol of hope amidst trials' sensation.

In her grace, he saw his country's soul,

A beacon of strength, his ultimate goal.

So let us remember Rizal, our guiding star,

Whose words still echo, near and far.

In the romantic era's tender embrace,

His legacy lives on, a testament to grace.