A bundle of myrrh is my beloved unto me; He shall pass the night between my breasts.

For, lo, the winter is past; The rain is over and gone;

So when I was a little past them, I found him whom my soul loveth. I have gotten hold upon him, and will not let him go, until I bring him into my mother's house, and in to her chamber that bare me.

O that I might go to the mountain of Myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense, till the day break, and till the shadows be past away.

Your mouth is like fine wine—

W flowing smoothly for my love,
gliding past my lips and teeth!