Study Desk

You are beautiful, my darling, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, majestic as troops with banners.

Turn your eyes from me; they overwhelm me. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing. Each has its twin, not one of them is alone.

Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate.

Sixty queens there may be, and eighty concubines, and virgins beyond number;

but my dove, my perfect one, is unique, the only daughter of her mother, the favorite of the one who bore her. The maidens saw her and called her blessed; the queens and concubines praised her.

Who is this that appears like the dawn, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, majestic as the stars in procession?