Christina Rossetti

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 thick-set 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 fair 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-lys;
because the birthday of my life
is come, my love is come to me.

The Oxford Book of English Verse.
1250-1900. Oxford 1919.