Song of Solomon 7:9-12

And thy mouth like the best wine, That goeth down smoothly for my beloved, Gliding through the lips of those that are asleep. I am my beloved’s; And his desire is toward me. Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; Let us lodge in the villages. Let us get up early to the vineyards; Let us see whether the vine hath budded, And its blossom is open, And the pomegranates are in flower: There will I give thee my love.

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