For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spoke: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

Where has your beloved gone, O you fairest among women? where has your beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with you.

My beloved has gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed his flock in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the wealth of his house for love, it would utterly be rejected.