My heart is like a singing bird, Whose nest is in a water'd 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.
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