Draw thou me unto thee; we will run after thee. The king hath brought me into his privy chamber: We will be glad and rejoice in thee, we think more of thy love than of wine. They that be righteous love thee.

Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest the sheep, where thou maketh the rest at the noon day: for why shall I be like him that goeth wrong about the flocks of thy companions?

If thou know not thyself, O thou fairest among women, then go thy way forth after the footsteps of the sheep, and feed thy goats beside the shepherds' tents.

A cluster of Camphire in the vineyards of Engedi art thou unto me, O my beloved.

O how fair art thou, my love, how fair art thou? Thou hast doves' eyes.

O how fair art thou, my beloved, how well favored art thou? Our bed is decked with flowers,

O how fair art thou, my love, how fair art thou? Thou hast doves' eyes, beside that which lieth hid within. Thy hairy locks are like the wool of a flock of goats that be shorn on Mount Gilead.

Thou art all fair, O my love, and no spot is there in thee.

Thou hast bewitched my heart, O my sister, my spouse; thou hast bewitched my heart with one of thine eyes, and with one chain of thy neck.

Thou art a well kept garden, O my sister, my spouse, thou are a well kept watering spring, and a sealed well.

Thou art a well of gardens, a well of living waters, which run down from Lebanon.

Up thou North wind, come thou South wind, and blow upon my garden, that the smell thereof may be carried on every side: yea, that my beloved may come into my garden, and eat of the fruits and apples that grow therein.

Who is thy love above other lovers, O thou fairest among women? Or what can thy love do, more than other lovers, that thou chargest us so straightly?

Whither is thy love gone then, O thou fairest among women; whither is thy love departed, that we may seek him with thee?

Thou art beautiful, O my love, even as loveliness itself; thou art fair as Jerusalem, glorious as an army of men with their banners.

Turn again, turn again, O thou Shulamite; turn again, turn again, that we may look upon thee. What pleasure have ye more in the Shulamite, than when she danceth among the men of war?

O how pleasant are thy treadings, with thy shoes, thou prince's daughter? The joint of thy thighs are like a fair jewel, which is wrought by a cunning work master;

O how fair and lovely art thou, my darling, in pleasures?

O that I might find thee without, and kiss thee, whom I love as my brother which sucked my mother's breasts: and that thou wouldest not be offended,

if I took thee, and brought thee into my mother's house - that thou mightest teach me, and that I might give thee drink of spiced wine and of the sweet sap of my pomegranates.

Thou that dwellest in the gardens, O let me hear thy voice, that my companions may hearken to the same.