I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the gazelles, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

Take us the foxes, The little foxes, that spoil the vineyards; For our vineyards are in bloom.

The watchmen that go about the city found me: Have ye seen him whom my soul loveth?

Scarcely had I passed from them, When I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, Until I had brought him into my mother's house, And into the chamber of her that conceived me.

I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the gazelles, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

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

Awake, north wind, and come, thou south; Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow forth. Let my beloved come into his garden, And eat its precious fruits.

The watchmen that went about the city found me; They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, ... What will ye tell him? That I am sick of love.

What is thy beloved more than another beloved, Thou fairest among women? What is thy beloved more than another beloved, That thou dost so charge us?

My dove, mine undefiled, is but one; She is the only one of her mother, She is the choice one of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and they called her blessed; The queens and the concubines, and they praised her.

Who is she that looketh forth as the dawn, Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, Terrible as troops with banners?

Return, return, O Shulamite; Return, return, that we may look upon thee. What would ye look upon in the Shulamite? As it were the dance of two camps.

And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine, ... That goeth down smoothly for my beloved, And stealeth over the lips of them that are asleep.

Oh that thou wert as my brother, That sucked the breasts of my mother! Should I find thee without, I would kiss thee; And they would not despise me.

Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, Leaning upon her beloved? I awoke thee under the apple-tree: There thy mother brought thee forth; There she brought thee forth that bore thee.

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

Thou that dwellest in the gardens, The companions hearken to thy voice: Let me hear it.