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

Dost Thou not as milk pour me out? And as cheese curdle me?

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 in the channels the flowings of torrents of honey and milk.

His breasts have been full of milk, And marrow his bones doth moisten.

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