Song of Solomon.
6.
Lad. Whither is thy beloved gone, thou fairest among women? Whither hath thy beloved betaken himself? That we may seek him with thee. 
M. My beloved is gone down to his garden, To the beds of balsam, To feed in the gardens, And to gather lilies. 
I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine; He feedeth among the lilies. 
Beautiful art thou, my love, as Tirzah, Lovely as Jerusalem; But terrible as an army with banners. 
Turn away thine eyes from me! They overpower me! Thy locks are like a flock of goats, Which lie down upon Gilead. 
Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep, Which come up from the washing-place, Of which every one hath twins, And none is barren among them. 
As a divided pomegranate Are thy cheeks behind thy veil. 
Threescore are the queens, and fourscore the concubines, And the maidens without number. 
But my dove, my undefiled, is the one; She is the incomparable one of her mother, The darling of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and blessed her; The queens and concubines, and they praised her. 
Lov. Who is this that looketh forth like the morning, Fair as the moon, bright as the sun, And terrible as an army with banners? 
M. I went down into the garden of nuts, To see the green plants of the valley, To see whether the vine blossomed, And the pomegranates budded. 
Or ever I was aware, My soul had made me like the chariots of the prince's train. 
Lad. Return, return, O Shulamite! Return, return, that we may look upon thee! M. Why should ye look upon the Shulamite, As upon a dance of the hosts?