Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee. Thy lips drop as the honeycomb, honey and milk are under thy tongue; And how much better is the smell of thine ointments than all spiced! For lo, the winter is passed, the rain is over and gone; The flowers have opened, And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell; And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. Arise my love, and come away. Come with me from Lebanon, come and be crowned.