Song of Solomon 4:11–14

Your lips drip nectar, my bride;

honey and milk are under your tongue;

the fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

A garden locked is my sister, my bride,

a spring locked, a fountain sealed.

Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates

with all choicest fruits,

henna with nard,

nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon,

with all trees of frankincense,

myrrh and aloes,

with all choice spices—

Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;

milk and honey are under your tongue.

The fragrance of your garments

is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride;

you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.

Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates

with choice fruits,

with henna and nard,

nard and saffron,

calamus and cinnamon,

with every kind of incense tree,

with myrrh and aloes

and all the finest spices.

Your lips drip sweetness like the honeycomb, my bride.

Honey and milk are under your tongue.

The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

My sister, my bride, you are a locked garden—

a locked garden and a sealed spring.

Your branches are a paradise of pomegranates

with choicest fruits;

henna with nard,

nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon,

with all the trees of frankincense,

myrrh and aloes,

with all the best spices.

Your lips are as sweet as nectar, my bride.

Honey and milk are under your tongue.

Your clothes are scented

like the cedars of Lebanon.

You are my private garden, my treasure, my bride,

a secluded spring, a hidden fountain.

Your thighs shelter a paradise of pomegranates

with rare spices—

henna with nard,

nard and saffron,

fragrant calamus and cinnamon,

with all the trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes,

and every other lovely spice.

Your lips drip nectar, my bride;

honey and milk are under your lips;

the scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon.

A garden locked is my sister bride,

a spring enclosed, a fountain sealed.

Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates with choice fruit,

henna with nard;

nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon spice with all trees of frankincense,

myrrh and aloes with all chief spices.

Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb:

Honey and milk are under thy tongue;

And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse;

A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.

Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits;

Camphire, with spikenard,

Spikenard and saffron;

Calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense;

Myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices: