His left hand is under my head, And his right hand doth embrace me.

Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armory, Whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, All the shields of the mighty men.

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door; And my bowels yearned for him.

(The Bridegroom)“Why should you gaze at the Shulammite,
As at the dance of the two armies?“How beautiful are your feet in sandals,
O prince’s daughter!
The curves of your hips are like jewels,
The work of the hands of an artist.

I would take you by the hand into my mother's house, and she would be my teacher. I would give you drink of spiced wine, drink of the pomegranate.

His left hand would be under my head, And his right hand embrace me.