For, lo, the winter is past. The rain is over and gone.

Where has thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? Where has thy beloved turned, that we may seek him with thee?

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

Many waters cannot quench love, nor can floods drown it. If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, he would be utterly scorned.