11For, lo, the winter is past; The rain is over and gone;
12The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing [of birds] is come, And the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land;
13The fig-tree ripeneth her green figs, And the vines are in blossom; They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
14O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the steep place, Let me see thy countenance, Let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
15Take us the foxes, the little foxes, That spoil the vineyards; For our vineyards are in blossom.
16My beloved is mine, and I am his: He feedeth [his flock] among the lilies.
17Until 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.
