13. The fig tree puts forth its green figs, and the vines with the tender grapes give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
14. O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the cliff, let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for sweet is your voice, and your countenance is lovely.
15. Catch us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes.