Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice: cause me to hear it.

I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother’s house, who would instruct me: I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my pomegranate.

Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant? Behold his litter, which is Solomon’s; threescore valiant men are about it, of the valiant of Israel.

Who is this that cometh up from the pasture, leaning upon her beloved? I raised thee up under the apple tree: there thy mother brought thee forth: there she brought thee forth, she that bore thee.

My dove, my undefiled is but one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the darling of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and blessed her; yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her:

I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not. And now I rise, and go about the city in the streets and in the squares, I seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.

Before I was even aware, my soul commanded me like the chariots of my nobles: Return, return, O Shulamite; return, return, that we may look upon thee. What will ye see in the Shulamite? As it were, the dance of battling armies.

O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, concealed in the cliff, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; thy pleasant voice, and thy comely countenance.

They all hold swords, experts in war: every man hath his sword at his thigh against fear in the nights.

His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven. His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and well set. His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.

Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep smooth shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.

As the lily among thorns, so is my shepherdess among the daughters.

I have compared thee, O my love, to my mare among Pharaoh’s chariots. Thy cheeks are lovely with rows of jewels, thy neck with threaded beads. We will make thee bead-rows of gold with studs of silver.

Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where dost thou graze? Where dost thou rest at noon? For why should I be as one enveloped by the flocks of thy companions?

Thy lips, O my bride, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the odour of thy garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

Who is she that gazeth down like the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?

Draw me after you, let us hurry! The king hath brought me into his chambers. We will exult and rejoice in thee; we will remember thy affections more than wine. The upright love thee.

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my shepherdess, my lovely one, and come away.

The watchmen that go about the city found me: Saw ye him whom my soul loveth? I had barely passed from them, when I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my mother’s house, and into the chamber of my conception.

Come and see, O ye daughters of Zion: King Solomon in the crown with which his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day of his heart’s rejoicing.

Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines and the blossom of the vineyards.

Look at you, my lovely shepherdess; Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes within thy tresses: thy hair is as a flock of goats descending from mount Gilead.

I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handle of the bolt.

Stare not at me because I am dark, because the sun hath looked on me: my mother’s sons were strict with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards, but I had not the keeping of mine own vineyard.

I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother’s house, who would instruct me: I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my pomegranate.

Who is this that cometh up from the pasture, leaning upon her beloved? I raised thee up under the apple tree: there thy mother brought thee forth: there she brought thee forth, she that bore thee.

As the lily among thorns, so is my shepherdess among the daughters.

Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.