My beloved is mine, and I am his; He feedeth his flock among the lilies,

Thy two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, Which feed among the lilies.

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

My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens and to gather lilies.

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: He feedeth his flock among the lilies.

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

And why are ye careful about clothing? Observe with attention the lilies of the field, how they grow: they toil not, neither do they spin;

Consider the lilies how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; but I say unto you, Not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed as one of these.