Song of Songs.
Chapter 7.
How 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. 
Thy navel is like a round goblet, wherein no mingled wine is wanting: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies. 
Thy two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe. 
Thy 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. 
Thine head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thine head like purple; the king is held captive in the tresses thereof. 
How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights! 
This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes. 
I 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; 
And thy mouth like the best wine, that goeth down smoothly for my beloved, gliding through the lips of those that are asleep. 
I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me. 
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages. 
Let 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. 
The 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. 
