Song of Solomon 2:13-14

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape Give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, In the secret places of the stairs, Let me see thy countenance, Let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, And thy countenance is comely.