Chapter 6

  Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned him, That we may seek him with thee?  

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  My beloved is gone down to his garden, To the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.  

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  I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine; He feedeth [his flock] among the lilies,  

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  Thou art fair, O my love, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Terrible as an army with banners.  

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  Turn away thine eyes from me, For they have overcome me. Thy hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of Gilead.  

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  Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes, Which are come up from the washing; Whereof every one hath twins, And none is bereaved among them.  

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  Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind thy veil.  

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  There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, And virgins without number.  

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  My dove, my undefiled, is [but] one; She is the only one of her mother; She is the choice one of her that bare her. The daughters saw her, and called her blessed; [Yea], the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.  

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  Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, Fair as the moon, Clear as the sun, Terrible as an army with banners?  

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  I went down into the garden of nuts, To see the green plants of the valley, To see whether the vine budded, [And] the pomegranates were in flower.  

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  Before I was aware, my soul set me [Among] the chariots of my princely people.  

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  Return, return, O Shulammite; Return, return, that we may look upon thee. Why will ye look upon the Shulammite, As upon the dance of Mahanaim?  

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