Song of Songs 4:13
Thy shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits; Henna with spikenard plants,
Thy shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits; Henna with spikenard plants,
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14 Spikenard and saffron, Calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; Myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices.
15 [ Thou art] a fountain of gardens, A well of living waters, And flowing streams from Lebanon.
16 Awake, O north wind; And come, thou south; Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, And eat his precious fruits.
3 Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, And thy mouth is comely. Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind thy veil.
4 Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armory, Whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, All the shields of the mighty men.
5 Thy two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe, Which feed among the lilies.
6 Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, And to the hill of frankincense.
7 Thou art all fair, my love; And there is no spot in thee.
8 Come with me from Lebanon, [my] bride, With me from Lebanon: Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions' dens, From the mountains of the leopards.
9 Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, [my] bride; Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, With one chain of thy neck.
10 How fair is thy love, my sister, [my] bride! How much better is thy love than wine! And the fragrance of thine oils than all manner of spices!
11 Thy lips, O [my] bride, drop [as] the honeycomb: Honey and milk are under thy tongue; And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
12 A garden shut up is my sister, [my] bride; A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
12 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.
13 The mandrakes give forth fragrance; And at our doors are all manner of precious fruits, new and old, Which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.
12 While the king sat at his table, My spikenard sent forth its fragrance.
13 My beloved is unto me [as] a bundle of myrrh, That lieth betwixt my breasts.
14 My beloved is unto me [as] a cluster of henna-flowers In the vineyards of En-gedi.
11 I went down into the garden of nuts, To see the green plants of the valley, To see whether the vine budded, [And] the pomegranates were in flower.
13 The fig-tree ripeneth her green figs, And the vines are in blossom; They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
14 O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the steep place, Let me see thy countenance, Let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
1 I am come into my garden, my sister, [my] bride: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends; Drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
2 I was asleep, but my heart waked: It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, [saying], Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; For my head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.
1 Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned him, That we may seek him with thee?
2 My beloved is gone down to his garden, To the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
13 His cheeks are as a bed of spices, [As] banks of sweet herbs: His lips are [as] lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.
17 I have perfumed my bed With myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon.
4 Thy neck is like the tower of ivory; Thine eyes [as] the pools in Heshbon, By the gate of Bath-rabbim; Thy nose is like the tower of Lebanon Which looketh toward Damascus.
5 Thy head upon thee is like Carmel, And the hair of thy head like purple; The king is held captive in the tresses [thereof] .
6 How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
7 This thy stature is like to a palm-tree, And thy breasts to its clusters.
8 I said, I will climb up into the palm-tree, I will take hold of the branches thereof: Let thy breasts be as clusters of the vine, And the smell of thy breath like apples,
13 Thou that dwellest in the gardens, The companions hearken for thy voice: Cause me to hear it.
14 Make haste, my beloved, And be thou like to a roe or to a young hart Upon the mountains of spices.
1 I am a rose of Sharon, A lily of the valleys.
2 As a lily among thorns, So is my love among the daughters.
3 As the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, So is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, And his fruit was sweet to my taste.
6 Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness Like pillars of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all powders of the merchant?
2 Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; For thy love is better than wine.
3 Thine oils have a goodly fragrance; Thy name is [as] oil poured forth; Therefore do the virgins love thee.
4 Draw me; we will run after thee: The king hath brought me into his chambers; We will be glad and rejoice in thee; We will make mention of thy love more than of wine: Rightly do they love thee. [
7 Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind thy veil.
16 Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: Also our couch is green.
17 The beams of our house are cedars, [And] our rafters are firs.
8 All thy garments [smell of] myrrh, and aloes, [and] cassia; Out of ivory palaces stringed instruments have made thee glad.
1 Let me sing for my wellbeloved a song of my beloved touching his vineyard. My wellbeloved had a vineyard in a very fruitful hill:
1 Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are [as] doves behind thy veil. Thy hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of mount Gilead.
6 His branches shall spread, and his beauty shall be as the olive-tree, and his smell as Lebanon.
2 Thy body is [like] a round goblet, [Wherein] no mingled wine is wanting: Thy waist is [like] a heap of wheat Set about with lilies.
5 Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, Leaning upon her beloved? Under the apple-tree I awakened thee: There thy mother was in travail with thee, There was she in travail that brought thee forth.