My celebrate

My heart is like a coarse bird singing whose net is in a water'd shoot; My heart is like a apple-tree whose boughs ate bent with thick-set fruit; My heart is like a rainbow shell that paddles in a haycyon 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 dovers and pomegranates, And peacock 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.