Tell me, thou loved of my soul! Where wilt thou pasture thy flock? Where wilt thou let them recline at noon? For why should I be as one that wrappeth a veil about her, by the flocks of thy companions?

The fig-tree, hath spiced her green figs, and, the vines - all blossom, yield fragrance, - Rise up! my fair - my beautiful - one, and come away!

Scarcely had I passed from them, when I found the beloved of my soul, - I caught him, and would not let him go, until that I had brought him into the house of my mother, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.

THEYReturn, return, O Shulamite, Return, return, that we may look on thee! SHEWhat would ye look on in the Shulamite? THEYAs it were the dance of a double camp --

The love-apples, have given fragrance, and, at our openings, are all precious things, new and yet old, - O my beloved! I have treasured them up for thee.

Oh that thou hadst been a very brother to me, who had sucked the breasts of my own mother, - Had I found thee without, I had kissed thee, Yea, folk would not have despised me!

I would have guided thee - brought thee into the house of my mother, Thou wouldst have instructed me, - I would have let thee drink of spiced wine, of the pressed-out juice of my pomegranate.

Many waters, cannot quench love, nor shall, floods, overwhelm it, - If a man would give all the substance of his house, for love, they would, utterly despise, him. ****