Catholic Standard Version : Song of Solomon : Chapter 4

Song 1
Song 2
Song 3
Song 4
Song 5
Song 6
Song 7
Song 8

Song 4

1 Behold, you are fair, my love; behold, you are fair; Your eyes are [as] doves behind your veil. Your hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of mount Gilead. 2 Your teeth are like a flock [of ewes] that are [newly] shorn, Which are come up from the washing, Whereof every one has twins, And none is bereaved among them. 3 Your lips are like a thread of scarlet, And your mouth is beautiful. Your temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind your veil. 4 Your neck is like the tower of David built for an armory, Whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, All the shields of the mighty men. 5 Your two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe, Which feed among the lilies. 6 Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, And to the hill of frankincense. 7 You are all fair, my love; And there is no spot in you. 8 Come with me from Lebanon, [my] bride, With me from Lebanon: Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions` dens, From the mountains of the leopards. 9 You have ravished my heart, my sister, [my] bride; You have ravished my heart with one of your eyes, With one chain of your neck. 10 How fair is your love, my sister, [my] bride! How much better is your love than wine! And the fragrance of your oils than all manner of spices! 11 Your lips, O [my] bride, drop [as] the honeycomb: Honey and milk are under your tongue; And the smell of your garments is like the smell of Lebanon. 12 A garden shut up is my sister, [my] bride; A spring shut up, a fountain sealed. 13 Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits; Henna with spikenard plants, 14 Spikenard and saffron, Calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; Myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices. 15 [You are] a fountain of gardens, A well of living waters, And flowing streams from Lebanon. 16 Awake, O north wind; and come, you south; Blow upon my garden, that its spices may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, And eat his precious fruits.