My Beloved Has Gone Down to His Garden

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Whither has your Beloved gone,
O fairest among women?
Whither has your Beloved turned,
that we may seek Him with you?
My Beloved has gone down to His garden,
to the beds of spices,
to pasture His flock in the gardens,
and to gather lilies. . . .
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
that you not stir up nor awake Love
until it please. . . .
Make haste, my Beloved,
and be like a gazelle
or a young stag
upon the mountains of spices.
Canticle 6:2; 7:14

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