Marvel not at me that I am so black: For why? The sun hath shined upon me. My mother's children had evil will at me, they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.

Me think I hear the voice of my beloved: lo, there cometh he hopping upon the mountains, and leaping over the little hills.

So when I was a little past them, I found him whom my soul loveth. I have gotten hold upon him, and will not let him go, until I bring him into my mother's house, and in to her chamber that bare me.

They hold swords every one, and are expert in war. Every man hath his sword upon his thigh, because of fear in the night.

Up thou North wind, come thou South wind, and blow upon my garden, that the smell thereof may be carried on every side: yea, that my beloved may come into my garden, and eat of the fruits and apples that grow therein.

As I was asleep, and my heart waking, I heard the voice of my beloved, when he knocked. Open to me, said he, O my sister, my love, my darling, my dove: for my head is full of dew, and my locks of my hair are full of the night drops.

so that I stood up to open unto my beloved. My hands dropped with Myrrh, and the Myrrh ran down my fingers upon the lock.

Nevertheless when I had opened unto my beloved, he was departed and gone his way. Now like as afore time when he spake, my heart could not longer refrain: Even so now I sought him, but I could not find him: I cried upon him, nevertheless he gave me no answer.

His legs are as the pillars of Marble, set upon sockets of gold; His face is as Lebanon, and as the beauty of the Cedar trees.

Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have set me on fire! Thy hairy locks are like a flock of goats upon the mount of Gilead.

Turn again, turn again, O thou Shulamite; turn again, turn again, that we may look upon thee. What pleasure have ye more in the Shulamite, than when she danceth among the men of war?

That head that standeth upon thee is like Carmel; the hair of thy head is like the king's purple folden up in plates.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, that ye wake not up my love, nor touch her, till she be content herself. What is she, this that cometh up from the wilderness, and leaneth upon her love?

O set me as a seal upon thine heart, and as a seal upon thine arm: for love is mighty as the death, and jealousy as the hell. Her coals are of fire, and a very flame of the LORD:

If she be a wall, we shall build a silver bulwark thereupon: if she be an open door, we shall fasten her with boards of Cedar tree.