My Heart Is Like A Singing Bird

My heart is like a singing bird

            Whose nest 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 a 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 fleurs-de-lys;

Because the birthday of my life

            Is come, my love is come to me.

--Christina Rossetti