As the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, So is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, And his fruit was sweet to my taste.

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

My beloved is gone down to his garden, To the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

I went down into the garden of nuts, To see the green plants of the valley, To see whether the vine budded, And the pomegranates were in flower.

And thy mouth like the best wine, That goeth down smoothly for my beloved, Gliding through the lips of those that are asleep.