Song of Songs.
Chapter 6.
My kinsman is gone down to his garden, to the beds of spice, to feed his flock in the gardens, and to gather lilies. 
I am my kinsman's, and my kinsman is mine, who feeds among the lilies. 
You are fair, my companion, as Pleasure, beautiful as Jerusalem, terrible as armies set in array. 
Turn away your eyes from before me, for they have ravished me: your hair is as flocks of goats which have appeared from Galaad. 
Your teeth are as flocks of shorn sheep, that have gone up from the washing, all of them bearing twins, and there is none barren among them: your lips are as a thread of scarlet, and your speech is comely. 
Your cheek is like the rind of a pomegranate, being seen without your veil. 
There are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and maidens without number. 
My dove, my perfect one is one; she is the only one of her mother; she is the choice of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and the queens will pronounce her blessed, yes, and the concubines, and they will praise her. 
Who is this that looks forth as the morning, fair as the moon, choice as the sun, terrible as armies set in array? 
I went down to the garden of nuts, to look at the fruits of the valley, to see if the vine flowered, if the pomegranates blossomed. 
There I will give you my breasts: my soul knew it not: it made me as the chariots of Aminadab. 
Return, return, O Sunamite; return, return, and we will look at you. What will you⌃ see in the Sunamite? She comes as bands of armies. 
