Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are as doves behind thy veil. Thy hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of mount Gilead.
Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes that are newly shorn, Which are come up from the washing, Whereof every one hath twins, And none is bereaved among them.
Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, With me from Lebanon: Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions dens, From the mountains of the leopards.
Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, And eat his precious fruits.