Your lips, my bride, drip like the honeycomb. Honey and milk are under your tongue. The smell of your garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

I have 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, friends. Drink, yes, drink abundantly, beloved.

His eyes are like doves beside the water brooks, washed with milk, mounted like jewels.