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 gazelle or a young hart. Behold, he standeth behind our wall, He looketh in through the windows, Glancing through the lattice. ¹⁰My beloved spake and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. 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. ¹⁶My beloved is mine, and I am his; He feedeth his flock among the lilies, ¹⁷Until the day dawn, and the shadows flee away. Turn, my beloved: be thou like a gazelle or a young hart, Upon the mountains of Bether.