1:5–7 The text begins with a poem from the wife addressing her self-perception. In 2:1 she will offer a negative review of her overall being (she is like an ordinary “lily”); here she gives a negative review of her body. She is unattractive because of her working-class complexion and presentation. Her skin is too tan—“very dark,” as dark as tanned, coarse Bedouin hides (“the tents of Kedar”) or the finely crafted “curtains of Solomon” (1:5). This is because the angry “sun has looked upon” her (v. 6) and because her angry half-brothers (her “mother’s sons”) forced her to labor outdoors. Because she has been keeping the family vineyards, she has been unable to keep her own vineyard (i.e., attend to her own body). Her hair is undone, her attire unattractive. She has been busy digging ditches, planting vines, hewing out wine vats, picking grapes, and shooing away foxes (cf. Isa. 5:2; Song 2:15). She is not Queen Esther, whose skin was softened with oil of myrrh for six months (Est. 2:12). She has no time for a manicure or pedicure, and certainly no time to powder her sunburnt cheeks before her beloved arrives for the rendezvous. Still, she knows she is “lovely” (Song 1:5) and that her beloved is loving. Thus she asks for a midday siesta with her shepherd-king (v. 7), an innocent11 excursion from her labors in the vineyards to her feast on her husband’s fruit (2:5) as she rests in his sun-blocking shade (“shadow”; 2:3).

1:8–11 As he invites her to join him for lunch (“follow in the tracks” and you will find me; v. 8), he will have none of her self-deprecation. Her body is “beautiful” (v. 8; also used of her twice in v. 15). To him, she is a “mare among Pharaoh’s chariots” (v. 9). This mare metaphor is related not to the horse’s value, strength, vibrancy, or animal magnetism (sex appeal) but rather to its beauty. Like the hero of Black Beauty, she is dark, and her unkempt quality—along with her long, healthy, glossy black hair—drives him wild. And, to his amazement, she is his. This “most beautiful among women” (v. 8) he calls “my love” (v. 9).

As she now stands before him, the metaphors shift. She is like a queen, decked with splendid ornamentation, jewelry that her bridesmaids help set in place (“We will make for you [feminine singular] ornaments of gold, studded with silver”; v. 11). Her natural beauty is enhanced by “lovely . . . ornaments” and “strings of jewels” (v. 10). Like an Egyptian mare from the royal chariot was dressed with an elaborate headdress, this Israelite bride (Israelite woman wore elaborate jewelry only on their wedding day) stands before her awestruck husband as a true beauty from head to toe.

1:12–17 These verses depict the success of the woman’s quest. The queen (the dark vineyard worker turned shepherdess—“pasture your young goats beside the shepherds’ tents”; v. 8) and “king” (the shepherd tending his flocks) are depicted as lying together, looking into each other’s eyes, and complimenting each other. The setting is pastoral and highly sensory. Their “couch” (“his,” v. 12; theirs [“our”], v. 16) is apparently the grass (“our couch is green,” or verdant; v. 16). Their “house” or canopy is the trees (“the beams of our house are cedar; our rafters are pine”; v. 17). Their lovemaking is not a one-hour roll in the hay; rather, it is as growing and as stable as a forest.

As her perfume (“my nard”; Song 1:12) wafts around their bodies, she rejoices in his sweet-smelling closeness (“My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh that lies between my breasts”; v. 13). She also extols his exotic attractiveness and sustenance, comparing him to “henna blossoms” that grow in the royal “vineyards” of the largest oasis along the western shore of the Dead Sea (“Engedi”; v. 14). He centers on her beauty:

    Behold, you are beautiful, my love;

    behold, you are beautiful. (v. 15)

His focus (for now!) is on her eyes, into which he is apparently gazing deeply. He compares them to “doves.” This might describe their disposition (she is timid), color (pearly-gray with specks of color), or shape (almond-shaped, like the contours of the bird’s body when its wings are folded). Or perhaps it simply symbolizes their innocent intimacy. Here he does not describe her thighs, nor does she describe his abdomen. It is the eyes! It is eye-to-eye intimacy, which is as “innocent as doves” (Matt. 10:16).

This section ends with her returning the compliment. She admires his beauty and the pleasures he brings: “Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly delightful” (Song 1:16). However, there is more than verbal foreplay; physical pleasures are at play as well. Or at least they are introduced here and expanded later (2:3–6). For the couple to be lying together on the grass, close enough to smell each other’s bodies and see each other’s face, and for the bride to describe her “beloved” as a “sachet of myrrh that lies between [her] breasts” (1:13) introduces us to the eroticism to follow.

2:1–6 Again the bride offers herself a negative self-assessment. This time it is not merely her body in view but her whole being. She claims to be a “rose of Sharon,” likely a crocus, asphodel, or narcissus. Put differently (although the metaphor provides the same idea), she is a “lily of the valleys.” At least she is a flower, not a weed! However, she is saying that she is ordinary. She is pretty common, like an unexceptional countryside wildflower.

He begs to differ. He stays with her analogy and expands it: she is “as a lily among brambles” (or “thorns”). The analogy is easy to understand. She is the best looking; her unique beauty makes all the other “young women” appear ugly. With this high compliment, she opens up like a flame lily in the springtime sun. And she again returns the compliment, moving the metaphor from a flower to a tree. As she is as a “lily among brambles,” so he is as an “apple tree among the trees of the forest.” The idea behind both expressions is identical, as they both celebrate each other’s uncommon beauty.

From the end of verse 3 to the end of verse 6, talk has turned into touch. She goes from sitting in his (protective and soothing) shade to noting how “his fruit was sweet to my taste” (v. 3). This tasting (always symbolic in the Song of physical intimacy) continues into the next two verses (vv. 4–5), which introduce the aphrodisiac fruits. Finally, the symbolism subsides and his literal hand is shown and felt. She is lying down; he is beside or on top of her. “His left hand” holds up her head or rests beneath it, while “his right hand embraces” her (bosom?12). The scene is now sizzling, but the whole scene is peacefully picturesque. She sits “in his shadow” (v. 3). Unlike her harsh brothers, who provided no shade from the sun, the beloved offers her provision and protection. They lie together on God’s lush and luxuriant royal bed—the grass in the forest—in which she eats from the fruit of the tree of life (cf. Gen. 2:9; with Edenic allusions abounding, perhaps this is a righteous reversal of Eve’s disobedience, 3:6). His apples and raisins are sweet to her taste. His fruit sustains and strengthens her; it is medicine for her lovesickness (Song 2:5). The flag of “love” (v. 4), like a military standard, waves overhead. She has joyfully submitted to her Adam, and now all is “very good” (Gen. 1:31) again.

2:7 The couples’ innocent ecstasy transitions into the bride’s exhortation to innocence. Actually, this is more than an exhortation. She puts the “daughters of Jerusalem” under oath, having them swear “by the gazelles or the does of the field.” Those animals are the feminine counterpart to what she calls her beloved in Song 2:9, 17. He is a male gazelle or young stag. The Hebrew word for “gazelles” (tsebaʾot) sounds like the word for “hosts,” which is part of a common name for God in the OT: “Lord of hosts” (yhwh tsebaʾot). Furthermore, some scholars argue that the Hebrew phrase “does of the field” (ʿaylot hassadeh) has a similar sound as El Shaddai (ʾel shadday), the ancient patriarchal name for God. The language here is no slip of the tongue. These allusions are meant to heighten the seriousness and strength of her admonition. She puts them under oath in this sense: “Do you pledge complete purity, so help you God?” These young Israelite women of Jerusalem (Israel’s city girls), who are ripe and ready for love, are taught to wait for sexual intimacy. Their bodies might be saying yes. Their suitors might even be saying yes (or at least “please”). But they are told to say no: “Virgins, stay virgins—for now. Wait for marriage.” That is the simple wisdom in this complex book. Patience, then passion; uncompromised purity now, unquenchable passion then.