John Montague Poems
|1.||Like Dolmens Round My Childhood, The Old People.||5/18/2015|
|4.||There Are Days||1/20/2003|
|5.||The Golden Hook||1/13/2003|
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.