American Standard Version
Song of Songs 4
1Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are as doves behind thy veil. Thy hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of mount Gilead. Share to feedTweet 2Thy teeth are like a flockof ewesthat arenewlyshorn, Which are come up from the washing, Whereof every one hath twins, And none is bereaved among them. Share to feedTweet 3Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, And thy mouth is comely. Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind thy veil. Share to feedTweet 4Thy neck is like the tower of David Builded for an armory, Whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, All the shields of the mighty men. Share to feedTweet 5Thy two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe, Which feed among the lilies. Share to feedTweet 6Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, And to the hill of frankincense. Share to feedTweet 7Thou art all fair, my love; And there is no spot in thee. Share to feedTweet 8Come with me from Lebanon, mybride, With me from Lebanon: Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions’ dens, From the mountains of the leopards. Share to feedTweet 9Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, mybride; Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, With one chain of thy neck. Share to feedTweet 10How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride! How much better is thy love than wine! And the fragrance of thine oils than all manner of spices! Share to feedTweet 11Thy lips, O mybride, drop asthe honeycomb: Honey and milk are under thy tongue; And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon. Share to feedTweet 12A garden shut up is my sister, my bride; A spring shut up, a fountain sealed. Share to feedTweet 13Thy shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits; Henna with spikenard plants, Share to feedTweet 14Spikenard and saffron, Calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; Myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices. Share to feedTweet 15Thou arta fountain of gardens, A well of living waters, And flowing streams from Lebanon. Share to feedTweet 16Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, And eat his precious fruits. Share to feedTweet