11For behold, the winter is past, The rain is over, it is gone:
12The flowers appear on the earth; The time of singing is come, And the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land;
13The fig-tree melloweth her winter figs, And the vines in bloom give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!
14My dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the precipice, Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
15Take us the foxes, The little foxes, that spoil the vineyards; For our vineyards are in bloom.