- Song of Solomon
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4
1 Behold, thou art beautiful, my beloved, behold, thou art beautiful: thy dovelike eyes [look forth] from behind thy vail; thy hair is like a flock of goats, that come quietly down from Mount Gil'ad. 2 Thy teeth are like a flock of well-selected sheep, which are come up from the washing, all of which bear twins, and there is not one among them that is deprived of her young. 3 Like a thread of scarlet are thy lips, and thy mouth is comely: like the half of a pomegranate is the upper part of thy cheek behind thy vail. 4 Thy neck is like the tower of David built on terraces, a thousand shields hang-thereon, all the quivers of the mighty men. 5 Thy two breasts are like two fawns, the twins of the roe, that feed among the lilies. 6 Until the day became cool, and the shadows flee away, will I get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense. 7 Thou art altogether beautiful, my beloved, and there is no blemish on thee.— 8 Come with me from Lebanon, O bride, with me from Lebanon: look about from the top of Amanah, from the top of Senir and Chermon, from the lions' dens, from the leopards' mountains. 9 Thou hast ravished my heart, O my sister, [my] bride; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thy eyes, with one chain of thy neck. 10 How beautiful are thy caresses, O my sister, [my] bride! how much more pleasant are thy caresses than wine! and the smell of thy fragrant oils more than all spices. 11 Of sweet honey drop thy lips, O bride: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the scent of thy garments is like the scent of Lebanon. 12 A locked-up garden is my sister, [my] bride; a locked-up spring, a sealed fountain. 13 Thy sprouts are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits, copher and spikenard; 14 Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all the trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, with all the chief of spices; 15 A garden-spring, a well of living waters, and flowing down from Lebanon.— 16 Awake, O north wind; and come thou, O south; blow over my garden, that its spices may flow out. Let my friend come into his garden, and eat its precious fruits.—

- Song of Solomon
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