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 make mention of thy love more than of wine: Rightly do they love thee.

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.

Tell me, O 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 that is veiled Beside the flocks of thy companions?

I have compared thee, O my love, To a steed in Pharaoh's chariots.

While the king sat at his table, My spikenard sent forth its fragrance.

My beloved is unto me as a bundle of myrrh, That lieth betwixt my breasts.

My beloved is unto me as a cluster of henna-flowers In the vineyards of En-gedi.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; Behold thou art fair; Thine eyes are as doves.

Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: Also our couch is green.

As a 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. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, And his fruit was sweet to my taste.

He brought me to the banqueting-house, And his banner over me was love.

Stay ye me with raisins, refresh me with apples; For I am sick from love.

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

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, Until he please.

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

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.

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

The fig-tree ripeneth her green figs, And the vines are in blossom; They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the steep place, 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 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.

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

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

The watchmen that go about the city found me; To whom I said , Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?

It was but a little that 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 adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, Until he please.

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

Until the day be cool, 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 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.

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

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

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.

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

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

I am come into my garden, my sister, my bride: 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, O beloved.

I was asleep, but my heart waked: It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh,'saying , Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; For my head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.

I have put off my garment; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door , And my heart was moved for him.

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

I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone. My soul had failed me when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

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

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick from 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, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned him, That we may seek him with thee?

My beloved is gone down to 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, O my love, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Terrible as an army with banners.

Turn away thine eyes from me, For they have overcome me. Thy hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of Gilead.

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

Before I was aware, my soul set me Among the chariots of my princely people.

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?

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 my beloved's; And his desire is toward me.

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

Let us get up early to the vineyards; Let us see whether the vine hath budded, And its blossom is open, And the pomegranates are in flower: There will I give thee my love.

The mandrakes give forth fragrance; And at our doors are all manner of precious fruits, new and old, Which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.

Oh that thou wert as my brother, That sucked the breasts of my mother! When I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; Yea, and none would despise me.

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

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

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, Until 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, A very flame of Jehovah.

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

My vineyard, which is mine, is before me: Thou, O Solomon, shalt have the thousand, And those that keep the fruit thereof two hundred.

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

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