5I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.
6I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
7The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
8I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
9What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?
10My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
11His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
