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A Birthday
(5 December 1830 – 29 December 1894 / London)

A Birthday

Poem By Christina Georgina 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 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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Comments (21)

Add a comment.Amazing
Nice poem
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A Thumbelina is the deadliest diagnostic of self-infatuation with evil atrocities. I for one am the worst of the Notes of the Underground. The Underground Railroad of Harriet Tubman has most misaralbly failed by greed and absolute despotism. We only have become the Ca Ca the white of the Yucca Whipili and the Catcher in the Rye is the enslavement by pornogrphic espionage and treason of the books of evil have made the Mayflower, The Santa Maria and the Nina the configuration
The Pentagonal of each member deoxyribonuclease's Fables fo falsifiable Deconstruction Period is the epidemic of the Grand Dragon's David Duke's reing fo terror. As my frightened existential nightmare, is the death of the 's Angels destroying all that was once God's on Earth and elsewhere.


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