WHERE has your beloved gone, O you most beautiful among women?
Where has your beloved turned aside, that we may seek him with you?
My beloved has 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 feeds among the lilies.
¶ You are beautiful and desirable, O my beloved, comely as Jerusalem, and esteemed as one chosen among beauties.
Turn away your eyes from me, for they have overcome me;
your hair is like a flock of goats which come up from the mount of Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock of sheep which go up from washing;
every one of them bears twins, and none is bereft among them.
Your cheeks, behind your veil, are like two pieces of pomegranate.
There are sixty queens and eighty concubines and virgins without number.
My perfect dove is but one;
she is the only one of her mother;
she is the choice one of her that bore her.
The daughters saw her and praised her;
yea, the queens and the concubines also praised her.
Who is she that looks forth like the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and revered as a princess?
¶ I went down into the garden of walnut trees to see the fruit of the valley and to see whether the vine had blossomed and whether the pomegranates had budded.
And being unfamiliar with the place, I sat in the public chariot which was ready.
Return, return, O Shulamite;
return, return, that we may look upon you.
What will you see in the Shulamite, who comes down joyfully, like the rejoicing of a host?