Chapter 6

  Whither is thy beloved gone, Thou fairest among women? Whither is thy beloved turned aside? And we will seek him with thee.  

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  My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens and to gather lilies.  

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  I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: He feedeth [his flock] among the lilies.  

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  Thou art fair, my love, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Terrible as troops with banners:  

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  Turn away thine eyes from me, For they overcome me. Thy hair is as a flock of goats On the slopes of Gilead.  

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  Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep Which go up from the washing; Which have all borne twins, And none is barren among them.  

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  As a piece of a pomegranate are thy temples Behind thy veil.  

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  There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, And virgins without number:  

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  My dove, mine undefiled, is but one; She is the only one of her mother, She is the choice one of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and they called her blessed; The queens and the concubines, and they praised her.  

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  Who is she that looketh forth as the dawn, Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, Terrible as troops with banners?  

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  I went down into the garden of nuts, To see the verdure of the valley, To see whether the vine budded, Whether the pomegranates blossomed.  

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  Before I was aware, My soul set me upon the chariots of my willing people.  

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  Return, return, O Shulamite; Return, return, that we may look upon thee. -- What would ye look upon in the Shulamite? -- As it were the dance of two camps.  

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