While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof.

It was but a little that I passed from them, but 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 her that conceived me.

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.

My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.

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