While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth its smell.

The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thy ointments than all spices!

Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honey-comb; honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of its boughs: now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy nose like apples;

The mandrakes give a smell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits, new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.