And thy mouth like the best wine, That goeth down smoothly for my beloved, Gliding through the lips of those that are asleep.

Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, And thy mouth is comely. Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind thy veil.

Thy body is like a round goblet, Wherein no mingled wine is wanting: Thy waist is like a heap of wheat Set about with lilies.

Thy neck is like the tower of ivory; Thine eyes as the pools in Heshbon, By the gate of Bath-rabbim; Thy nose is like the tower of Lebanon Which looketh toward Damascus.

Thy head upon thee is like Carmel, And the hair of thy head like purple; The king is held captive in the tresses thereof .