Song of Solomon 2:8–17

⁸The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh,

Leaping upon the mountains,

Skipping upon the hills.

⁹My beloved is like a roe or a young hart:

Behold, he standeth behind our wall;

He looketh in at the windows;

He glanceth through the lattice.

¹⁰My beloved spake, and said unto me,

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

¹¹For, lo, the winter is past;

The rain is over and gone;

¹²The flowers appear on the earth;

The time of the singing of birds is come,

And the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land;

¹³The fig-tree ripeneth her green figs,

And the vines are in blossom;

They give forth their fragrance.

Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

¹⁴O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock,

In the covert of the steep place,

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 blossom.

¹⁶My beloved is mine, and I am his:

He feedeth his flock among the lilies.

¹⁷Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away,

Turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart

Upon the mountains of Bether.