Song of Solomon 1:7-17

Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: For why should I be as one that turneth aside By the flocks of thy companions? If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, Go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, And feed thy kids Beside the shepherds' tents. I have compared thee, O my love, To a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, Thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold With studs of silver. While the King sitteth at his table, My spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof. A bundle of myrrh is my wellbeloved unto me; He shall lie all night betwixt my breasts. My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire In the vineyards of Engedi. Behold, thou art fair, my love; Behold, thou art fair; Thou hast doves' eyes. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, Yea, pleasant: Also our bed is green. The beams of our house are cedar, And our rafters of fir.