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

For lo, the winter hath passed by, The rain hath passed away -- it hath gone.

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.

M I have come to my garden—my sister, my bride.
I gather my myrrh with my spices.
I eat my honeycomb with my honey.
I drink my wine with my milk.

N Eat, friends!
Drink, be intoxicated with love!

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.

Come back, come back, O Shulammite; come back, come back, so that our eyes may see you. What will you see in the Shulammite? A sword-dance.

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