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11/22/2009 4:23:47 AM
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I'll tell you a sore truth, little understood It's harder to leave, than to be left: To stay, to leave, both sting wrong. You will always have me to blame, Can dream we might have sailed on; From absence's rib, a warm fiction. To tear up old love by the roots, To trample on past affections: There is no music for so harsh a song. Anonymous submission. John Montague
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