Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CONFESSION, by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM



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THE CONFESSION, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: There's somewhat on my breast, father
Last Line: I've ate and can't digest.
Alternate Author Name(s): Ingoldsby, Thomas
Subject(s): Food & Eating


THERE'S somewhat on my breast, father,
There's somewhat on my breast!
The livelong day I sigh, father,
And at night I cannot rest.

I cannot take my rest, father,
Though I would fain do so;
A weary weight oppresseth me --
This weary weight of woe!

'Tis not the lack of gold, father,
Nor want of worldly gear;
My lands are broad, and fair to see,
My friends are kind and dear.
My kin are leal and true, father,
They mourn to see my grief;
But, oh! 'tis not a kinsman's hand
Can give my heart relief!

'Tis not that Janet's false, father,
'Tis not that she's unkind;
Though busy flatterers swarm around,
I know her constant mind.
'Tis not her coldness, father,
That chills my labouring breast;
It's that confounded cucumber
I've ate and can't digest.





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