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

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.

Look not upon me, because I am black; Because the sun hath looked upon me. My mother's children were angry with me: They made me keeper of the vineyards; Mine own vineyard have I not kept.

Tell me, thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest thy flock, Where thou makest it to rest at noon; For why should I be as one veiled Beside the flocks of thy companions?

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

While the king is at his table, My spikenard sendeth forth its fragrance.

A bundle of myrrh is my beloved unto me; He shall pass the night between my breasts.

My beloved is unto me a cluster of henna-flowers In the vineyards of Engedi.

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

Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant; Also our bed is green.

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

As the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, So is my beloved among the sons: In his shadow have I rapture and sit down; And his fruit is sweet to my taste.

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.

His left hand is under my head, And his right hand doth embrace me.

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.

The voice of my beloved! Behold, he cometh Leaping upon the mountains, Skipping upon the hills.

My beloved is like a gazelle or a young hart. Behold, he standeth behind our wall, He looketh in through the windows, Glancing through the lattice.

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!

My dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the precipice, Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

My beloved is mine, and I am his; He feedeth his flock among the lilies,

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

On my bed, in the nights, I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

I will rise now, and go about the city; In the streets and in the broadways Will I seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

The watchmen that go about the city found me: Have ye seen him whom my soul loveth?

Scarcely had I passed from them, When I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, Until I had brought him into my mother's house, And into the chamber of her that conceived me.

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.

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.

Until the day dawn, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, And to the hill of frankincense.

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

Come with me, from Lebanon, my spouse, With me from Lebanon, Come, look from the top of Amanah, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions' dens, From the mountains of the leopards.

Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, With one chain of thy neck.

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!

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

A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.

Awake, north wind, and come, thou south; Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow forth. Let my beloved come into his garden, And eat its precious fruits.

I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, beloved ones!

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 have put off my tunic, how should I put it on? I have washed my feet, how should I pollute them? --

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door; And my bowels yearned for him.

I rose up to open to my beloved; And my hands dropped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, Upon the handles of the lock.

I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself; he was gone: My soul went forth when he spoke. I sought him, but I found him not; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

The watchmen that went about the city found me; They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

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

My beloved is white and ruddy, The chiefest among ten thousand.

His mouth is most sweet: Yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, yea, this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

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

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: He feedeth his flock among the lilies.

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

Turn away thine eyes from me, For they overcome me. Thy hair is as a flock of goats On the slopes of Gilead.

My dove, mine undefiled, is but one; She is the only one of her mother, She is the choice one of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and they called her blessed; The queens and the concubines, and they praised her.

Before I was aware, My soul set me upon the chariots of my willing people.

Return, return, O Shulamite; Return, return, that we may look upon thee. What would ye look upon in the Shulamite? As it were the dance of two camps.

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

And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine, ... That goeth down smoothly for my beloved, And stealeth over the lips of them that are asleep.

I am my beloved's, And his desire is toward me.

Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the fields; Let us lodge in the villages.

We will go up early to the vineyards, We will see if the vine hath budded, If the blossom is opening, And the pomegranates are in bloom: There will I give thee my loves.

The mandrakes yield fragrance; And at our gates are all choice fruits, new and old: I have laid them up for thee, my beloved.

Oh that thou wert as my brother, That sucked the breasts of my mother! Should I find thee without, I would kiss thee; And they would not despise me.

I would lead thee, bring thee into my mother's house; Thou wouldest instruct me: I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine, Of the juice of my pomegranate.

His left hand would be under my head, And his right hand embrace me.

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.

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

My vineyard, which is mine, is before me: The thousand silver-pieces be to thee, Solomon; And to the keepers of its fruit, two hundred.

Thou that dwellest in the gardens, The companions hearken to thy voice: Let me hear it.

Haste, my beloved, And be thou like a gazelle or a young hart Upon the mountains of spices.