Your neck is like the tower of David built for an armory, on which there hang a thousand shields, all shields of mighty men.

You are all fair, my love; there is no spot in you.

Your teeth are as a flock of sheep which go up from the washing, every one bears twins, and there is not one barren among them.

There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, and virgins without number.

Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see if the vine has budded, whether the grape blossoms have opened, and the pomegranates are in bloom: there will I give you my loves.

Who is this that comes up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? I awakened you under the apple tree: there your mother brought you forth: there she brought you forth that bore you.