Wisdom 8

1 Thou art all fair, O my love, and there is not a spot in thee. 2 Come from Libanus, my spouse, come from Libanus, come: thou shalt be crowned from the top of Amana, from the top of Sanir and Hermon, from the dens of the lions, from the mountains of the leopards. 3 Thou hast wounded my heart, my sister, my spouse, thou hast wounded my heart with one of thy eyes, and with one hair of thy neck. 4 How beautiful are thy breasts, my sister, my spouse! thy breasts are more beautiful than wine, and the sweet smell of thy ointments above all aromatical spices. 5 Thy lips, my spouse, are as a dropping honeycomb, honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments, as the smell of frankincense. 6 My sister, my spouse, is a garden enclosed, a garden enclosed, a fountain sealed up. 7 Thy plants are a paradise of pomegranates with the fruits of the orchard. Cypress with spikenard. 8 Spikenard and saffron, sweet cane and cinnamon, with all the trees of Libanus, myrrh and aloes with all the chief perfumes. 9 The fountain of gardens: the well of living waters, which run with a strong stream from Libanus. 10 Arise, O north wind, and come, O south wind, blow through my garden, and let the aromatical spices thereof flow. 12 Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat the fruit of his apple trees. I am come into my garden, O my sister, my spouse, I have gathered my myrrh, with my aromatical spices: I have eaten the honeycomb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, my dearly beloved. 13 I sleep, and my heart watcheth: the voice of my beloved knocking: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is full of dew, and my locks of the drops of the nights. 14 I have put off my garment, how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them? 15 My beloved put his hand through the key hole, and my bowels were moved at his touch. 16 I arose up to open to my beloved: my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers were full of the choicest myrrh. 17 I opened the bolt of my door to my beloved: but he had turned aside, and was gone. My soul melted when he spoke: I sought him, and found him not: I called, and he did not answer me. 18 The keepers that go about the city found me: they struck me: and wounded me: the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me. 19 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him that I languish with love. 20 What manner of one is thy beloved of the beloved, O thou most beautiful among women? what manner of one is thy beloved of the beloved, that thou hast so adjured us? 21 My beloved is white and ruddy, chosen out of thousands.