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.
His eyes are like doves beside the water-brooks, Washed with milk, (and) fitly set.
Thou art fair, O my love, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Terrible as an army with banners.
This thy stature is like to a palm-tree, And thy breasts to its clusters.