Who is this coming out of the waste places like pillars of smoke, perfumed with sweet spices, with all the spices of the trader?

My dove, in the hidden places of the rocks, in the secret places of the cliffs, show me your form, and let me hear your voice. For your voice is pleasant, and your shape is lovely.

I will arise now, and I will go round about in the city; in the streets, and in the broad places I will seek him whom my soul loved. I sought him, and I found him not