Get us the foxes, yea the little foxes that hurt the vines, for our vines bear blossoms.

-- Pray, let me rise, and go round the city, In the streets and in the broad places, I seek him whom my soul hath loved! -- I sought him, and I found him not.

So when I was a little past them, I found him whom my soul loveth. I have gotten hold upon him, and will not let him go, until I bring him into my mother's house, and in to her chamber that bare me.

Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.

Your lips are like a scarlet cord,
and your mouth is lovely.
Behind your veil,
your brow is like a slice of pomegranate.

(The Shulammite Bride)
“Awake, O north wind,
And come, south wind [blow softly upon my garden];
Make my garden breathe out fragrance, [for the one in whom my soul delights],
Let its spices flow forth.
Let my beloved come into his garden
And eat its choicest fruits.” Cross references: Song of Solomon 4:7 : John 14:18; Eph 5:27 Song of Solomon 4:8 : 2 Cor 11:2, 3 Song of Solomon 4:10 : John 15:9; Rom 8:35 Song of Solomon 4:13 : John 15:5; Eph 5:9 Song of Solomon 4:15 : John 4:10; 7:37, 38 end of crossrefs

His head is pure gold -- fine gold, His locks flowing, dark as a raven,

His hands are like gold rings, having enclosed the precious stone of Tarshish; His body is as the pure ivory, decked over with Sapphires.

His legs are alabaster pillars
set on pedestals of pure gold.
His presence is like Lebanon,
as majestic as the cedars.

“Your teeth are like a flock of ewes
Which have come up from their washing,
All of which bear twins,
And not one among them has lost her young.

Behind your veil,
your brow is like a slice of pomegranate.

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 blessed her; yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.

‘Who is this that looks down like the dawn,
Fair and beautiful as the full moon,
Clear and pure as the sun,
As majestic as an army with banners?’

(The Chorus)
“Return, return, O Shulammite;
Return, return, that we may gaze at you.”

I said, 'Let me go up on the palm, Let me lay hold on its boughs, Yea, let thy breasts be, I pray thee, as clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of thy face as citrons,

and thy throat like the best wine. This shall be pure and clear for my love, his lips and teeth shall have their pleasure.

Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? I raised thee up under the apple tree: there thy mother brought thee forth: there she brought thee forth that bare thee.