Post more comments
Want a gift card for being active Forum member? Post comments and win $25 gift card every week.
Rules:
PoemHunter.com will be giving away Amazon.com gift cards (worth $75 in total) every week to first three members ($25 each) who participate most in our forum discussions. You just have to post comments on forum pages, poet pages or poem pages anywhere inside PoemHunter.com
Comments posted needs to be in different pages. Posting more than 1 comment on the same page will only be counted once.
Members can not post comments without being logged in.
PoemHunter.com has the right to cancel or edit this contest.
PoemHunter.com has a right to disqualify or ban member(s) without providing any type of reason, belief or proof in regards to any type of illegal activity or fraud.

Daniel Partlow

(1969 / St. Louis, MO > Westport, CT)

A Scriptural Valentine (The Mildly Erotic Song of Solomon)


The Bride
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; “Lord, your love is better than wine.
Because of your good essential essence, like fragrant oil poured forth, all my love is thine.”

“Draw me, my king, you hath brought me into the chambers of your bed
We will be glad and rejoice, we will remember our love as wine or bread.”

I am tan, and lovely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, girls of royal kin.
Look not down upon me, because I am swarthy, darkened by the sun and not by sin.

For my brothers were angry with me; they made me a worker of the field.
My own vineyards I have not kept, but with fountain it is sealed.

Tell me, O you whom my soul loveth, where you feedest and rest thy flock at noon:
Why should I be unknown to your companions – as distant as the moon.

Her Friends
If you know not, O you fairest among women, follow the flock,
And beside the shepherds' tents feed thy young and bearded caprine stock.

The Bride
I have compared you, O my love, to a company of Pharaoh's equine chariot.
Your cheeks are handsome as with rows of jewels, your neck with golden lariot.

While the king sitteth at his table, my Lavender perfume floats forth from my narded chest.
A bundle of myrrh is He to me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts.

My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi.
Behold, thou art fair, thy dove-eyes can behold our couch is green and ripe and ready

I am the lily of the valleys, and the comely rose of Sharon
As the lily among thorns, to my love – I am compared to other daughters barren.

As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, So is my beloved, to other sons compared.
I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and sweet upon my lips was the fruit he shared.

He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.
Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am love-sick for my dove.

Oh, that His left hand should be under my head and his right hand doth me embrace.
O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and hinds, stir not up, nor awaken my love, till I see His face.

The voice of my beloved! He cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
Like a roe, a young buck He stands behind our wall, peering forth from latticed window sills.

The King
I your beloved spoke, and said unto you, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The blossoms appear on the earth today;

The time of the singing of birds has come to our land, the voice of the turtle dove gives serenade
The fig tree puts forth her green fig buds, and the vines their tender grapes: a fragrance on parade.

The Bride
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. O my dove, that art in secret stair and rocky clefts.
Let me see thy comely countenance, let me tremble to thy vocal base and treble clefs;

My beloved is mine, and I am His: He feedeth among my lilies until the break of day
Now shadows flee away and turn my beloved as roe or hart upon the mount of Bether, don’t delay.

The Bride
By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I foundeth not.
I arise and go about the city in the streets and avenues; I will seek him for whom my heart burneth hot.

I asked, “Saw you where my love doth go? ” of the watchmen that about the city go to and fro.
It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him: I held him, and would not let him go.

Not until I had brought him into my mother's house, into the room of she who conceived me.
O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and hinds of the field, stir not up my love, till it pleaseth he.

Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of perfumed smoke
Scent of myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant that cause not one to choke

Behold the palace of the King; threescore valiant men are about it, the gallant of his kin.
All sworded martial artists: all hath the edge upon his thigh because fear pervades the midnight din.

The King made himself a chariot of Lebanese cedar wood, a gilded base, and pillared silver stem,
Covering of purple, driven on paths of love, love for the daughters of beloved Jerusalem.

Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold King Solomon with the crown where’th
Bathsheba crowned him on the day of his espousals, and today His heart gladness beareth.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks:
Appear from balmy mount Gilead: thy hair is as the caprine flocks

Your teeth are like a flock of shorn sheep which came up from a soapy scrub;
Whereof every one bear twins, and none among them is barren stub.

Your lips are cords of scarlet, and your speech is comely, ruddy pomegranate temples in thy locks
Your neck the armoury tower of David, whereon there hang a thousand buckler shields in stocks.

The King
Your two breasts are like two young twin roes, they feed among the lilies pure.
Until the day break, and fleeing shadows, I repair to the hill of frankincense and mountain of myrrh.

Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in you. Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, my hen.
Look from the top of Amana, from Shenir and Hermon, from mount of the leopard & lions' den.

My heart is ravished my love; with glance of eyes thou hast bound it in chains of your lovely neck.
How fair is your love, my spouse! How much better is your love than wine! Your spices I detect!

Your lips, O my spouse, dropp as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under your tongue.
A garden enclosed is my kin, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed among.

The Bride
Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard,
Saffron, calamus, cinnamon, frankincense; myrrh and aloes all abound in your courtyard.

A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters. Awake, O north wind upon brook of Lebanon.
Come south; blow upon my garden, that my spices may flow out, let loose my rolled chignon.

Let my beloved come to me into his own abundant garden,
And eat your pleasant fruits of love, oh my beloved warden.

The King
I am come into my garden, to my lovely spouse: I have gathered spice with myrrh;
I have tasted my honeycomb flowing with honey; I’ve drunk my wine and milk with her.

So now eat, O friends; drink, and enjoy and be sated.
Yea, drink abundantly, O beloved for now we are mated.

The Bride
I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my love,
My undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night, my dove.

The Bride
I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my love,
My undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night, my dove.

I have put off my robe; why should I put it on? I have cleaned my feet; why should I now defile them?
My beloved put in his hand on the latch of my door, and my bowels were moved for him.

I rose up to open to my beloved; my fingers dripped with myrrh and touched the handles of the lock.
I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn, and was gone to my surprise and shock.

My soul failed when he spake and Him I sought.
I called him, but he gave me no answer. I found him not.

The watchmen going about the city found and smote me, they wounded me; and took away my veil.
Please, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, tell him that with love I have grown pale.

Her Friends
What is your beloved more than another man, O thou fairest woman, so we may know?
What is your beloved more than any other man, that you dost charge us so?

The Bride
My beloved has ruddy fine complexion, the chiefest among ten thousand men.
His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as raven.

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by rivers of water washed with milk, and makes my heart stir.
His cheeks are as beds of spice and sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.

His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance as strong as cedar spires.

His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is lovely and as strong as a Lion.
This is my beloved, and my truest friend, O daughters of Holy Zion.

Her Friends
Whither is your beloved gone, O you fairest among women?
Whither is your beloved turned aside? That we may find and place you with him.

My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, my basket lillies laden.
I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: he feedeth among the lilies of his rare and radiant maiden.

You art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners galebnon.
Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me: your hair is caprine flock from Gilead yon.

The King
Your teeth are like a flock of shaven sheep which came up from a lathery tub;
As a piece of a pomegranate are your temples within your locks – my hands do yearn to rub.

There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, and innumerous virgins other.
But my dove, my undefiled is but one; she is the only one – the pick of her mother.

Her Friends
The daughters saw her, and blessed her; yea, she is praised by queens and many concubine.
Who is she that looketh forth at morning, fair as moon, clear as sun, and strong as army with ensign?


The Bride
I went down into the garden of nuts to see his fruits of the valley and whether his vine flourished.
My pomegranates budded, Oh was I aware, my soul made me like Amminadib’s bronze chariots burnished.

Her Friends
Return, return, O Shulamite; return, return, that we may look upon thee.
What will ye see in the Shulamite? As it were the company of two army.

How dainty are your feet with bridal shoes, O daughter of the Prince of many lands.
Your curved thighs are like pearl jewels wrought by cunning expert workman hands.

Your navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor to make her silly
Your belly is like a heap of light wheat flour set about with valley-lily.

Your two breasts are like young twin does. Your neck is as an ivory tower;
Thine eyes like the fishpools at Heshbon, with many a lovely flower.

Your nose is as the great tower of Lebanon which toward Damascus stare.
Thine head upon you is like Carmel, and purple is your hair;

The king is held in the galleries by holy rights.
How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!

The King
This thy stature is like a palm, and thy breasts like clusters of grapes – Oh woman of my vows.
I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will embrace thy clusters, and I will take hold of thy boughs.

And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved whose sweet vintage is at peak,
Causing the lips of those that have fallen into slumber to open and to speak.

The Bride
I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me. Come, my beloved of renown
Let us go forth into the field; let us go and honeymoon in a little town.

Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see if your vine does flourish,
To where the tender grapes appear and Pomegranates budding forth shall you nourish.

The conceptive mandrakes give a smell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruit,
Fruit both new and old, which I have saved for you, O my love nothing could ever pollute.

Oh if you wert like a brother to me, that sucked the breasts of my mother!
Long ago I should have found you ‘round, I would have given you a peck and no-one ever bother.

But, now I lead you, and I bring you into my mother's house, she has helped me plan it.
I cause you to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my pomegranate.

The Bride
His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me.
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he can unlace me.

The Mother
Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her love?
I raised you up under the apple tree: there your mother brought you forth, my dove.

The Bride
Set me as a seal upon thy heart, for love is as strong as death. Set me on thy hand as sealed agreement.
Jealousy is cruel as the grave, its flashes thereof are coals of fire, which hath a flame most vehement.

Never trade or eschew the love of your beloved woman Shulamite;
Hot jealousy consumes with fires of Pluto’s black mineral anthracite.

For many waters cannot quench my love, neither can floods drown it, so be warned.
If any man tried to buy it with all the substance of his house, he would still be utterly scorned.

Her Friends
We have a little sister, and for now she hath not any breast.
What shall we do for our sister in the day when on her betrothal comes to rest?


If she is a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver, her love will want and need her.
And if she is a door, we will enrobe her with fragrant boards of cedar.

The Bride
I am a wall, and my breasts like towers: then was I in his eyes - as one that found his favour.
Make haste, my beloved, and be you like a roe or hart upon the mountains of spice and flavor.

From Sunrise On The Mount

Submitted: Saturday, February 10, 2007
Edited: Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Scriptural Valentine (The Mildly Erotic Song of Solomon) by Daniel Partlow )

Enter the verification code :

  • Melvina Germain (4/11/2007 10:25:00 AM)

    I thoroughly enjoyed reading this precious write, I just couldn't put it down, had to force myself to leave and came back to it as soon as I could. A fantastic script indeed, I played all the parts with change of voice and such. Absolutely brilliant, would love to see this performed on stage. Fantastic Daniel, I'm looking forward to more of your remarkable work. Thankyou--Melvina--- (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. To You, With Love, Fareez Nasir
  2. For smooth sailing, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
  3. Genuine respect, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
  4. Let go of my wrist!, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
  5. A sweet dream..., PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
  6. She is I, Shweta Nair
  7. Poetic Sleeping Habits ~there are none, LUVinThe NOW
  8. Passing No Judgement, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  9. An odd adventure...., PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
  10. Falling Leaves, RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Poem of the Day

poet Algernon Charles Swinburne

I hid my heart in a nest of roses,
Out of the sun's way, hidden apart;
In a softer bed than the soft white snow's is,
Under the roses I hid my heart.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]