Part I
Wake is my heart tho’ sleep hath sealed mine eyes
What voice is this which doth the night surprise
Sweet thro’ my slumber falls it on mine ear:
Its music like celestial bells I hear.

Open to me, my love, my undefiled!
Cold is the breath of night, the winds blow wild,
Open to me, my sister! O, my dove,
Wake to the wooing of immortal love!

Have I not shown to thee the living deeps
Love that nor slumbers, no, but vigil keeps,
Has it not been before thine eyes unveiled
When ruthless foes thy friendless soul assailed?

Thro’ cataracts, whose noise my soul appalled,
Where deep to deep unfathomable called,
And where forsaken and unheard by God
Alone death’s solitudes for thee I trod.

Love quenchless could not, would not be denied;
Drunk must the chalice be from death’s dark tide;
Else must the captive in the captor’s chain
A helpless slave for evermore remain.

But now the mighty victory is gained.
The bitter cup of judgment has been drained,
Of love eternal crowns the heaven’s height
Cloudless in all its majesty and might.

By all the sorrows thro’ which love has passed,
By the fierce fury of wrath’s righteous blast
By all my woes unknowable and known,
Not thy Beloved leave in midnight lone!

Open to me, thou fairest of the fair,
Far thro’ the night that I might with thee share
Open, for I have knocked so long and loud
Girt by the moonless macerating cloud.

Lonely my way since light of day was quenched,
My weary head with heavy dew is drenched,
Across the starless welkin vapours creep—
Must I rejected lonely vigil keep?

Behold I stand before the cruel gate
Abroad I send my cry, I watch, I wait,
Must I my long and lonely way retrace
While angry lightnings the deep darkness lace?

To look upon Thy face I left the land
Where the fair firmament is brightly spanned
From thence for thee my love hath me exiled—
Open to me, my, dove, my undefiled!

I heard His voice. I gave Him no reply,
As tho’ regardless of His plight while I
And when at length I rose, He had withdrawn,
Nor wist I whither my Beloved had gone.

I sought Him, but I found Him not; I called,
The silence of the night my soul appalled.
Me wandering in the darksome streets astray,
They smote me roughly, took my veil away.

I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem,
Him whose fair image like a priceless gem
Who hath no peer in earth or heaven above,
I pray you, tell Him I am sick of love.

What is thy well-Beloved than others more,
What glory has He whom thou dost adore?
That we thy wandering feet may help to guide:
Pray, thee, the secret to our souls confide.

White is my well-Beloved with health aglow,
More pure in nature than the driven snow,
Chief where ten thousand noble princes meet,
Beyond description infinitely sweet.

His head is as the finest gold, a spring
His hair is black as is the raven’s wing,
His eyes beam bright with love and tenderness,
The Centre peerless among God’s noblesse.

His cheeks are beds of spices whose perfume
His lips are lilies whose immortal bloom
His hand gold rings and set with beryl bright;
His glory puts to shame the stars of night.

Most sweet His mouth, a mine of princely grace
Lofty His brow, and shines His glorious face
But how describe perfections without end?
This my Beloved is, and this my Friend!

Part II
How beautiful, my undefiled, art thou!
Within thy ringlets is thy beauteous brow
Clear as the sun that rides the azure heights!
Fair as the moon that rules the silent nights!

How better is thy love, my spouse, than wine!
Better than spices all! Those eyes of thine
Like to the honeycomb thy lips drop sweet!
Thy mouth with milk and honey is replete!

Oh, that thou wert as brother unto me!
When in the highway I should meet with thee,
No need should I have then to veil mine eyes,
For never witnesses would me despise.

Oh, set me as a seal upon thy heart
For not another has the sacred art
Thou, only thou canst claim me as thine own,
Thine, thine am I, Beloved! Thine alone!

Love is more puissant than dreaded death,
Within me is the endless life and breath
And thou my Star art thro’ the lone dark night,
My glorious Sun, my everlasting Light!

Cruel is jealousy as is the grave,
If as the price of love one freely gave
Scorned would such barter be as worse than nought,
For not by all the world could love be bought.

Love not by many waters could be quenched.
Like billows black, and earth itself be drenched,
Therefore I lay on my Beloved’s breast
A trustful head, and thus securely rest.

All fair art thou, my love! In thee is found
A tower of ivory thy neck! And bound
My soul eternally is unto thine,
As is thy soul for evermore to mine.

Within the heart of her who gave thee birth
Crowned where the glorious daughters of the earth
Bright as the sun when morn has climbed the hill,
And as a bannered army terrible.

As among thorns the lily, so among
Art thou, whose virtues wonderful and strong
Of thy fair countenance the mystic art
Has captivated mine admiring heart.

Part III
Hark! ’tis the voice of my Belov’d that breaks
Thro’ verdant valleys, and from golden peaks,
My soul, that thro’ a long dark night and lone
The sorrow of a hope deferred hath known.

He speaks! That voice! Oh, how could I mistake
So sweet! So strong! My inmost soul to wake!
In heaven or earth my soul delights to hear!
Once more it falls upon my wakeful ear.

Arise, my love, my fair one, come away!
The sun has climbed the mountains, and the day
The frosts and snows of winter are no more,
Stilled are the tempests, and the rains are o’er.

The Flowers appear upon the earth and shed
Deceit, oppression, hatred, pride, are dead,
The birds awake the echoes, and their song
Thrills thro’ the welkin blue the whole day long.

With precious fruit the forest trees replete
The vines with tender grapes give odours sweet
The turtle’s voice is heard; the battle’s roar
In our fair country shall be heard no more.

Come has the kingdom, and on Zion’s hill
And violence no longer blood shall spill
And earth disburdened from the curse is gay—
Arise, My Love, My Fair One, Come Away!