I am the floure of the felde, and lylie of the valleys:

as the rose amonge the thornes, so is my loue amonge the daughters.

Like as the aple tre amonge the trees of the wodd, so is my beloued amonge the sonnes. My delite is to sitt vnder his shadowe, for his frute is swete vnto my throte.

He bryngeth me in to his wyne seller, and loueth me specially well.

Refresh me wt grapes, coforte me with apples, for I am sick of loue.

His left hade lyeth vnder my heade, & his right hande enbraceth me.

I charge you (o ye doughters of Ierusalem (by the Roes & hyndes of the felde, yt ye wake not vp my loue ner touch her, till she be content herself.

Me thynke I heare the voyce of my beloued: lo, there commeth he hoppinge vpon ye mountaynes, and leapinge ouer the litle hilles.

My beloued is like a Roo or a yonge hart. Beholde, he stondeth behynde or wall, he loketh in at the wyndowe, & pepeth thorow the grate.

My beloued answered & sayde vnto me: O stode vp my loue, my doue, my beutyfull, & come:

for lo, the wynter is now past, the rayne is awaie & gone.

The floures are come vp in the felde, the twystinge tyme is come, the voyce of the turtle doue is herde in oure londe.

The fyge tre bryngeth forth hir fyges, the vynes beare blossoms, and haue a good smell. O stode vp my loue, my beutyfull, and come

(my doue) out of the caues of the rockes, out of the holes of the wall: O let me se thy countenaunce and heare thy voyce, for swete is thy voyce and fayre is thy face.

Gett vs the foxes, yee the litle foxes that hurte ye vynes, for oure vynes beare blossoms.

My loue is myne, and I am his, (which fedeth amoge the lylies)

vntill the daye breake, and till the shadowes be gone. Come agayne preuely (o my beloued) like as a Roo or a yonge harte vnto the mountaynes.