11For loe, the winter is past, the raine is ouer, and gone. 12The flowers appeare on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. 13The fig tree putteth foorth her greene figs, and the vines with the tender grape giue a good smell. Arise, my loue, my faire one, and come away.14¶ O my doue! that art in the clefts of the rocke, in the secret places of the staires: let me see thy countenance, let me heare thy voice, for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely. 15Take vs the foxes, the litle foxes, that spoile the vines: for our vines haue tender grapes.