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.

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.

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