My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: Behold, he standeth behind our wall; He looketh in at the windows; He glanceth through the lattice.
Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, Turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart Upon the mountains of Bether.
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.