8 The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. |
9 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. |
10 My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. |
11 For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; |
12 The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; |
13 The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. |
14 O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely. |
