by Christina Rossetti
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose heart is in a watered shoot.
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit.
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea.
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates
And peacocks with a hundred eyes.
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleur-de-lis;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.