⁷ Tell me, you whom my soul loves,
    where you pasture your flock,
    where you make it lie down at noon,
for why should I be like one who is veiled
    beside the flocks of your companions?^(A)

¹⁴ O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,
    in the covert of the cliff,
let me see your face;
    let me hear your voice,
for your voice is sweet,
    and your face is lovely.^(A)