Longing for Her Beloved

1I would that thou, O my kinsman, wert he that sucked the breasts of my mother; when I found thee without, I would kiss thee; yea, they should not despise me.

2I would take thee, I would bring thee into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me; I would make thee to drink of spiced wine, of the juice of my pomegranates.

3His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me.

4I have charged you, ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the virtues of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please.

5Who is this that comes up all white, leaning on her kinsman? I raised thee up under an apple-tree; there thy mother brought thee forth; there she that bore thee brought thee forth.

6Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave, her shafts are shafts of fire, even the flames thereof.

7Much water will not be able to quench love, and rivers shall not drown it; if a man would give all his substance for love, men would utterly despise it.

8Our sister is little, and has no breasts; what shall we do for our sister, in the day wherein she shall be spoken for?

9If she is a wall, let us build upon her silver bulwarks; and if she is a door, let us carve for her cedar panels.

10I am a wall, and my breasts are as towers; I was in their eyes as one that found peace.

11Solomon had a vineyard in Beelamon; he let his vineyard to keepers; every one was to bring for its fruit a thousand pieces of silver.

12My vineyard, even mine, is before me; Solomon shall have a thousand, and they that keep its fruit two hundred.

13Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice: make me hear it.

14Away, my kinsman, and be like a doe or a fawn on the mountains of spices.