O how fair art thou, my love, how fair art thou? Thou hast doves' eyes, beside that which lieth hid within. Thy hairy locks are like the wool of a flock of goats that be shorn on Mount Gilead.

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.

His head is the most fine gold, the locks of his hair are bushed, and brown as the evening;

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.