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.
13. Thy shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits; Henna with spikenard plants,