My dove, my perfect one, is the only one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the favorite one of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and blessed her; yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.

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.