Text copied!
Isaac Leeser Tanakh - Song of Solomon

Song of Solomon 4

Help us?
Click on verse(s) to share them!
1Behold, thou art beautiful, my beloved, behold, thou art beautiful: thy dovelike eyes look forth from behind thy vail; thy hair is like a flock of goats, that come quietly down from Mount Gil'ad.
2Thy teeth are like a flock of well-selected sheep, which are come up from the washing, all of which bear twins, and there is not one among them that is deprived of her young.
3Like a thread of scarlet are thy lips, and thy mouth is comely: like the half of a pomegranate is the upper part of thy cheek behind thy vail.
4Thy neck is like the tower of David built on terraces, a thousand shields hang-thereon, all the quivers of the mighty men.
5Thy two breasts are like two fawns, the twins of the roe, that feed among the lilies.
6Until the day became cool, and the shadows flee away, will I get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
7Thou art altogether beautiful, my beloved, and there is no blemish on thee.—
8Come with me from Lebanon, O bride, with me from Lebanon: look about from the top of Amanah, from the top of Senir and Chermon, from the lions' dens, from the leopards' mountains.
9Thou hast ravished my heart, O my sister, my bride; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thy eyes, with one chain of thy neck.
10How beautiful are thy caresses, O my sister, my bride! how much more pleasant are thy caresses than wine! and the smell of thy fragrant oils more than all spices.
11Of sweet honey drop thy lips, O bride: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the scent of thy garments is like the scent of Lebanon.
12A locked-up garden is my sister, my bride; a locked-up spring, a sealed fountain.
13Thy sprouts are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits, copher and spikenard;
14Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all the trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, with all the chief of spices;
15A garden-spring, a well of living waters, and flowing down from Lebanon.—
16Awake, O north wind; and come thou, O south; blow over my garden, that its spices may flow out. Let my friend come into his garden, and eat its precious fruits.—