Song of Songs 7

1How beautiful are thy feet in sandals, O prince’s daughter! the joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman.

2Thy navel is like a round goblet, wherein no mingled wine is wanting: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies.

3Thy two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe.

4Thy neck is like the tower of ivory; thine eyes as the pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim; thy nose is like the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus.

5Thine head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thine head like purple; the king is held captive in the tresses thereof.

6How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!

7This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.

8I said, I will climb up into the palm tree, I will take hold of the branches thereof: let thy breasts be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy breath like apples;

9And thy mouth like the best wine, that goeth down smoothly for my beloved, gliding through the lips of those that are asleep.

10I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me.

11Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages.

12Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see whether the vine hath budded, and its blossom be open, and the pomegranates be in flower: there will I give thee my love.

13The mandrakes give forth fragrance, and at our doors are all manner of precious fruits, new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.