Behold, thou art fair, my love; Behold, thou art fair: thine eyes are doves.

Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant; Also our bed is green.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are doves behind thy veil; Thy hair is as a flock of goats, On the slopes of mount Gilead.

Thou art all fair, my love; And there is no spot in thee.

Thou art fair, my love, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Terrible as troops with banners:

How fair and how pleasant art thou, my love, in delights!

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.