I wish I’d known you all my life, since e’er we two could walk;
‘cause then to kiss you on the street would not make people talk.
I’d lead you to my mother’s house, and there upon her bed,
I’d pour the wine and feed you from my pomegranates red.
I yearn again to feel his hand beneath my dreamy head;
another hand and arm embrace me, doing things unsaid.
O daughters of Jerusalem, prepare yourselves to be,
when love is ready and awake, as wildly stirred as me.
Source: Song of Solomon 8:1-4
Text: David Alexander, 2021 CC BY-SA
Tune: Clonmel ,Public Domain
Audio: www.smallchurchmusic.com Used by Permission.