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 [bad word] 
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love [bad word] 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
 [bad word]  my love [bad word] to me.