10 How fair is thy love, my sister, `my' bride! How much better is thy love than wine! And the fragrance of thine oils than all manner of spices!
11 Thy lips, O `my' bride, drop `as' the honeycomb: Honey and milk are under thy tongue; And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
12 A garden shut up is my sister, `my' bride; A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
13 Thy shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits; Henna with spikenard plants,
14 Spikenard and saffron, Calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; Myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices.