1 I AM come into my garden, my sister, my bride: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
2 I was asleep, but my heart waked: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying , Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.
5 I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with liquid myrrh, upon the handles of the bolt.
6 I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone. My soul had failed me when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
7 The watchmen that go about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my mantle from me.
8 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
9 What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so adjure us?
13 His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as banks of sweet herbs: his lips are as lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.
14 His hands are as rings of gold set with beryl: his body is as ivory work overlaid with sapphires.