Song of Solomon 2:14-17

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. Take us the foxes, The little foxes, That spoil the vines: For our vines have tender grapes. My beloved is mine, and I am his: He feedeth among the lilies. Until the day break, And the shadows flee away, Turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart Upon the mountains of Bether.