Song of Solomon.
Chapter 6.
Whither is thy kinsman gone, Thou beautiful among women? Whither has thy kinsman turned aside? Tell us, and we will seek him with thee. 
My kinsman is gone down to his garden, to the beds of spice, To feed his flock in the gardens, and to gather lilies. 
I am my kinsman’s, and my kinsman is mine, Who feeds among the lilies. 
Thou art fair, my companion, as Pleasure, Beautiful as Jerusalem, Terrible as armies set in array. 
Turn away thine eyes from before me, For they have ravished me: Thy hair is as flocks of goats Which have appeared from Gilead. 
Thy teeth are as flocks of shorn sheep, That have gone up from the washing, All of them bearing twins, And there is none barren among them: Thy lips are as a thread of scarlet, And thy speech is comely. 
Thy cheek is like the rind of a pomegranate, Being seen without thy veil. 
There are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, And maidens without number. 
My dove, my perfect one is one; She is the only one of her mother; She is the choice of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and the queens will pronounce her blessed, Yea, and the concubines, and they will praise her. 
Who is this that looks forth as the morning, Fair as the moon, choice as the sun, Terrible as armies set in array? 
I went down to the garden of nuts, To look at the fruits of the valley, To see if the vine flowered, If the pomegranates blossomed. 
There I will give thee my breasts: My soul knew it not: It made me as the chariots of Amminadab. 
