A bundle of myrrh is my beloved to me, That lies all night between my breasts.

The Coming of Solomon

The Shulamite

Who is this coming out of the wilderness Like pillars of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all the merchant’s fragrant powders?

They all hold swords, Being expert in war. Every man has his sword on his thigh Because of fear in the night.

Your neck is like the tower of David, Built for an armory, On which hang a thousand bucklers, All shields of mighty men.

You are all fair, my love, And there is no spot in you.

How fair is your love, My sister, my spouse! How much better than wine is your love, And the scent of your perfumes Than all spices!

Spikenard and saffron, Calamus and cinnamon, With all trees of frankincense, Myrrh and aloes, With all the chief spices—

The mandrakes give off a fragrance, And at our gates are pleasant fruits, All manner, new and old, Which I have laid up for you, my beloved.

Many waters cannot quench love, Nor can the floods drown it. If a man would give for love All the wealth of his house, It would be utterly despised.