Why did the knees take me, or why the breasts that they might give me milk?

Hast thou not poured me out as milk, and curdled me like cheese?

They sojourning in my house and my maids, mill reckon me for a stranger: I was a foreigner in their eyes.

Let him not see the rivers of oil, the streams of honey and milk.

His breasts are full of milk, and his bones are moistened with marrow.

When my steps were bathed in milk, and the rock poured out beside me rivers of oil! ...