Song of Songs 7:1-12

Shapely and graceful your sandaled feet, and queenly your movement— Your limbs are lithe and elegant, the work of a master artist. Your body is a chalice, wine-filled. Your skin is silken and tawny like a field of wheat touched by the breeze. Your breasts are like fawns, twins of a gazelle. Your neck is carved ivory, curved and slender. Your eyes are wells of light, deep with mystery. Quintessentially feminine! Your profile turns all heads, commanding attention. The feelings I get when I see the high mountain ranges —stirrings of desire, longings for the heights— Remind me of you, and I’m spoiled for anyone else! Your beauty, within and without, is absolute, dear lover, close companion. You are tall and supple, like the palm tree, and your full breasts are like sweet clusters of dates. I say, “I’m going to climb that palm tree! I’m going to caress its fruit!” Oh yes! Your breasts will be clusters of sweet fruit to me, Your breath clean and cool like fresh mint, your tongue and lips like the best wine. Yes, and yours are, too—my love’s kisses flow from his lips to mine. I am my lover’s. I’m all he wants. I’m all the world to him! Come, dear lover— let’s tramp through the countryside. Let’s sleep at some wayside inn, then rise early and listen to bird-song. Let’s look for wildflowers in bloom, blackberry bushes blossoming white, Fruit trees adorned with cascading flowers. And there I’ll give myself to you, my love to your love!