Chapter 2
I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.
    As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
    As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved 
among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, 
and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
    He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me 
was love.
    Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.
    His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace 
me.
    I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by 
the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
    The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the 
mountains, skipping upon the hills.
    My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind 
our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through 
the lattice.
    My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, 
and come away.
    For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
    The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is 
come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
    The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the 
tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come 
away.
    O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of 
the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet 
is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
    Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines 
have tender grapes.
    My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.
    Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, 
and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

Chapter 3
    By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, 
but I found him not.
    I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad 
ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found 
him not.
    The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw 
ye him whom my soul loveth?
    It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom 
my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, until I had 
brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her 
that conceived me.
    I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the 
hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
    Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, 
perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the 
merchant?
    Behold his bed, which is Solomon's; threescore valiant men are 
about it, of the valiant of Israel.
    They all hold swords, being expert in war: every man hath his 
sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night.
    King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon.
    He made the pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the 
covering of it of purple, the midst thereof being paved with love, for the 
daughters of Jerusalem.
    Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold king Solomon with 
the crown wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his 
espousals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart.

Chapter 5
I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: 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.
    I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that 
knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my unde-
filed: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of 
the night.
    I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; 
how shall I defile them?
    My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels 
were moved for him.
    I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, 
and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the 
lock.
    I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and 
was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not 
find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
    The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, 
they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
    I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that 
ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
    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 charge us?
    My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
    His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a 
raven.
    His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with 
milk, and fitly set.
    His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, 
dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
    His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright 
ivory overlaid with sapphires.
    His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his 
countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
    His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my 
beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.                          

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 = Tom Zingarelli