1My well-beloved is gone down into his garden to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
2I am my well-beloved’s, and my well-beloved is mine, who feedeth among the lilies.
3Thou art beautiful, my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.
4Turn away thine eyes from me: for they overcome me: thine hair is like a flock of goats, which look down from Gilead.
5Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep, which go up from the washing, which every one bring out twins, and none is barren among them.
6Thy temples are within thy locks as a piece of a pomegranate.
7There are threescore Queens, and fourscore concubines, and of the damsels without number.
8But my dove is alone, and my undefiled, she is the only daughter of her mother, and she is dear to her that bare her: the daughters have seen her, and counted her blessed: even the Queens and the concubines, and they have praised her.
9Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, pure as the sun, terrible as an army with banners!
10I went down to the garden of nuts, to see the fruits of the valley, to see if the vine budded, and if the pomegranates flourished.
11I knew nothing, my soul set me as the chariots of my noble people.
12Return, return, O Shulamite, return: return that we may behold thee. What shall you see in the Shulamite, but as the company of an army?