John Montague Poems
- No Music I'll tell you a sore truth, little understood It's ...
- Blessing A feel of warmth in this place. In winter air, a ...
- The Golden Hook Two fish float: one slowly ...
- There Are Days There are days when one should be able to ...
- Uprooting My love, while we talked They removed the roof. ...
- White Water The light, tarred skin of the currach rides and...
- Paths We had two gardens. A real flower ...
John Montague is an Irish poet. He was born in New York and brought up in Tyrone. He has published a number of volumes of poetry, two collections of short stories and two volumes of memoir. He is one of the best known Irish contemporary poets. In 1998 he became the first occupant of the Ireland Chair of Poetry.
John Montague was born in Brooklyn, New York, on February 28, 1929. His father, James Montague, an Ulster Catholic, from County Tyrone, had gone to America in 1925 to join his brother John. Both were sons of John Montague, who had been a Justice of the Peace, combining his legal duties with being a schoolmaster, farmer, postmaster and director of ... more »
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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.