As the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, So is my beloved among the sons: In his shadow have I rapture and sit down; And his fruit is sweet to my taste.

My beloved spake and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

My dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the precipice, Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

Its pillars he made of silver, Its support of gold, Its seat of purple; The midst thereof was paved with love By the daughters of Jerusalem.

His eyes are like doves by the water-brooks, Washed with milk, fitly set;

His cheeks are as a bed of spices, raised beds of sweet plants; His lips lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.

His hands gold rings, set with the chrysolite; His belly is bright ivory, overlaid with sapphires;

His legs, pillars of marble, set upon bases of fine gold: His bearing as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars;

His mouth is most sweet: Yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, yea, this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

Before I was aware, My soul set me upon the chariots of my willing people.

Thy navel is a round goblet, which wanteth not mixed wine; Thy belly a heap of wheat, set about with lilies;

I said, I will go up to the palm-tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof; And thy breasts shall indeed be like clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of thy nose like apples,

Set me as a seal upon thy heart, As a seal upon thine arm: For love is strong as death; Jealousy is cruel as Sheol: The flashes thereof are flashes of fire, Flames of Jah.