Tell me, thou loved of my soul! Where wilt thou pasture thy flock? Where wilt thou let them recline at noon? For why should I be as one that wrappeth a veil about her, by the flocks of thy companions?

THEYWho is this, coming up out of the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? HEUnder the apple-tree, I roused thee, where thy mother, was in pain with thee, where she was in pain who gave thee birth!