Song of Solomon 2:7, 9, 17

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, and by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, Till he please.

My beloved is like a roe Or a young hart: Behold, he standeth Behind our wall, He looketh forth at the windows, Shewing himself through the lattice.

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.