Thine oils have a goodly fragrance; Thy name is as oil 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 make mention of thy love more than of wine: Rightly do they love thee.

We will make thee plaits of gold With studs of silver.

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

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.

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.

Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness Like pillars of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all powders of the merchant?

They all handle the sword, and are expert in war: Every man hath his sword upon his thigh, Because of fear in the night.

Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armory, Whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, All the shields of the mighty men.

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.

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!

Spikenard and saffron, Calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; Myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices.

Thou art a fountain of gardens, A well of living waters, And flowing streams from Lebanon.

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?

I said, I will climb up into the palm-tree, I will take hold of the branches thereof: Let thy breasts be as clusters of the vine, And the smell of thy breath like apples,

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.

Many waters cannot quench love, Neither can floods drown it: If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, He would utterly be contemned.

If she be a wall, We will build upon her a turret of silver: And if she be a door, We will inclose her with boards of cedar.

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