Look not upon me, because I am swarthy, Because the sun hath scorched me. My mother's sons were incensed against me; They made me keeper of the vineyards; But mine own vineyard have I not kept.

My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: Behold, he standeth behind our wall; He looketh in at the windows; He glanceth through the lattice.

Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, Turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart Upon the mountains of Bether.

Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness Like pillars of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all powders of the merchant?

Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes that are newly'shorn, Which are come up from the washing, Whereof every one hath twins, And none is bereaved among them.

Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, And thy mouth is comely. Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind thy veil.

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.

Thy two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe, Which feed among the lilies.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, With me from Lebanon: Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions dens, From the mountains of the leopards.

Thy lips, O my bride, drop as the honeycomb: Honey and milk are under thy tongue; And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

His eyes are like doves beside the water-brooks, Washed with milk, and fitly set.

His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: His aspect is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes, Which are come up from the washing; Whereof every one hath twins, And none is bereaved among them.

Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind thy veil.

Return, return, O Shulammite; Return, return, that we may look upon thee. Why will ye look upon the Shulammite, As upon the dance of Mahanaim?

How beautiful are thy feet in sandals, O prince's daughter! Thy rounded thighs are like jewels, The work of the hands of a skilful workman.

Thy body is like a round goblet, Wherein no mingled wine is wanting: Thy waist is like a heap of wheat Set about with lilies.

Thy two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe.

Thy neck is like the tower of ivory; Thine eyes as the pools in Heshbon, By the gate of Bath-rabbim; Thy nose is like the tower of Lebanon Which looketh toward Damascus.

Thy head upon thee is like Carmel, And the hair of thy head like purple; The king is held captive in the tresses thereof .

This thy stature is like to a palm-tree, And thy breasts to its clusters.

I said, I will climb up into the palm-tree, I will take hold of the branches thereof: Let thy breasts be as clusters of the vine, And the smell of thy breath like apples,

And thy mouth like the best wine, That goeth down smoothly for my beloved, Gliding through the lips of those that are asleep.

I am a wall, and my breasts like the towers thereof Then was I in his eyes as one that found peace.

Make haste, my beloved, And be thou like to a roe or to a young hart Upon the mountains of spices.