A Birthday

Ma hert is like a pleepin bird
That's bield is in a wattert shuit;
Ma hert is like an aiple tree
That's beuchs is laden sair wi fruit;
Ma hert is like a lustert shell
That's lappert bi a weel-faured sea;
Ma hert is blyther faur nor thir,
Acause ma jo is come tae me.

Plant me a stage o alasant;
Gie it a skyre an purpie mien;
Busk it wi dous an garnets rare,
An pownies wi a hunder een;
Wi gowd an siller muscadels,
Wi blads an siller fleurs-de-lys;
Acause the birthday o ma life
Is come, ma jo is come tae me.

Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)