Draw me; we will run after thee: The king hath brought me into his chambers; We will be glad and rejoice in thee; We will make mention of thy love more than of wine: Rightly do they love thee.
Look not upon me, because I am swarthy, Because the sun hath scorched me. My mothers sons were incensed against me; They made me keeper of the vineyards; But mine own vineyard have I not kept.
Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest thy flock, Where thou makest it to rest at noon: For why should I be as one that is veiled Beside the flocks of thy companions?