Song of Solomon 1:7-17

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? 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 steed in Pharaoh’s chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with plaits of hair, Thy neck with strings of jewels. We will make thee plaits of gold With studs of silver. While the king sat at his table, My spikenard sent forth its fragrance. My beloved is unto me as a bundle of myrrh, That lieth betwixt my breasts. My beloved is unto me as a cluster of henna-flowers In the vineyards of En-gedi. Behold, thou art fair, my love; Behold thou art fair; Thine eyes are as doves. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: Also our couch is green. The beams of our house are cedars, And our rafters are firs.