Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; For thy love is better than wine.

Thine ointments savour sweetly; Thy name is an ointment poured forth: Therefore do the virgins love thee.

Draw me, we will run after thee! The king hath brought me into his chambers We will be glad and rejoice in thee, We will remember thy love more than wine. They love thee uprightly.

I compare thee, my love, To a steed in Pharaoh's chariots.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; Behold, thou art fair: thine eyes are doves.

As the lily among thorns, So is my love among the daughters.

He hath brought me to the house of wine, And his banner over me is love.

Sustain ye me with raisin-cakes, Refresh me with apples; For I am sick of love.

I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the gazelles, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

My beloved spake and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

The fig-tree melloweth her winter figs, And the vines in bloom give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!

I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the gazelles, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

Its pillars he made of silver, Its support of gold, Its seat of purple; The midst thereof was paved with love By the daughters of Jerusalem.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are doves behind thy veil; Thy hair is as a flock of goats, On the slopes of mount Gilead.

Thou art all fair, my love; And there is no spot in thee.

How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! How much better is thy love than wine! And the fragrance of thine ointments than all spices!

I slept, but my heart was awake. The voice of my beloved! he knocketh: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, mine undefiled; For my head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.

I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, ... What will ye tell him? That I am sick of love.

Thou art fair, my love, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Terrible as troops with banners:

How fair and how pleasant art thou, my love, in delights!

I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, ... Why should ye stir up, why awake my love, till he please?

Set me as a seal upon thy heart, As a seal upon thine arm: For love is strong as death; Jealousy is cruel as Sheol: The flashes thereof are flashes of fire, Flames of Jah.

Many waters cannot quench love, Neither do the floods drown it: Even if a man gave all the substance of his house for love, It would utterly be contemned.