10. How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments 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,
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.