578 verses about Beauty

Behold, you are beautiful, my love. Behold, you are beautiful. Your eyes are doves. Beloved

Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved, yes, pleasant; and our couch is verdant. Lover

The beams of our house are cedars. Our rafters are firs.

I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys. Lover

As a lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. Beloved

As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, his fruit was sweet to my taste.

I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, or by the hinds of the field, that you not stir up, nor awaken love, until it so desires.

The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes, leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills.

My beloved is like a roe or a young deer. Behold, he stands behind our wall! He looks in at the windows. He glances through the lattice.

My beloved spoke, and said to me, “Rise up, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.

For, behold, the winter is past. The rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth. The time of the singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

The fig tree ripens her green figs. The vines are in blossom. They give out their fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.” Lover

My dove in the clefts of the rock, In the hiding places of the mountainside, Let me see your face. Let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.

My beloved is mine, and I am his. He browses among the lilies.

Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be like a roe or a young deer on the mountains of Bether.

Who is this who comes up from the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all spices of the merchant?

Behold, it is Solomon’s carriage! Sixty mighty men are around it, of the mighty men of Israel.

King Solomon made himself a carriage of the wood of Lebanon.

He made its pillars of silver, its bottom of gold, its seat of purple, the middle of it being paved with love, from the daughters of Jerusalem.

Go out, you daughters of Zion, and see king Solomon, with the crown with which his mother has crowned him, in the day of his weddings, in the day of the gladness of his heart.

Behold, you are beautiful, my love. Behold, you are beautiful. Your eyes are doves behind your veil. Your hair is as a flock of goats, that descend from Mount Gilead.

Your teeth are like a newly shorn flock, which have come up from the washing, where every one of them has twins. None is bereaved among them.

Your lips are like scarlet thread. Your mouth is lovely. Your temples are like a piece of a pomegranate behind your veil.

Your neck is like David’s tower built for an armory, whereon a thousand shields hang, all the shields of the mighty men.

Your two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe, which feed among the lilies.

Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, I will go to the mountain of myrrh, to the hill of frankincense.

You are all beautiful, my love. There is no spot in you.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, with me from Lebanon. Look from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir and Hermon, from the lions’ dens, from the mountains of the leopards.

You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride. You have ravished my heart with one of your eyes, with one chain of your neck.

How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine! The fragrance of your perfumes than all kinds of spices!

Your lips, my bride, drip like the honeycomb. Honey and milk are under your tongue. The smell of your garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

A locked up garden is my sister, my bride; a locked up spring, a sealed fountain.

Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits: henna with spikenard plants,

spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with every kind of incense tree; myrrh and aloes, with all the best spices,

a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, flowing streams from Lebanon. Beloved

Awake, north wind; and come, you south! Blow on my garden, that its spices may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and taste his precious fruits.

I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Friends Eat, friends! Drink, yes, drink abundantly, beloved. Beloved

I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my beloved who knocks: “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my hair with the dampness of the night.”

My beloved thrust his hand in through the latch opening. My heart pounded for him.

I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the lock.

I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, that you tell him that I am faint with love. Friends

How is your beloved better than another beloved, you fairest among women? How is your beloved better than another beloved, that you do so adjure us? Beloved

My beloved is white and ruddy. The best among ten thousand.

His head is like the purest gold. His hair is bushy, black as a raven.

His eyes are like doves beside the water brooks, washed with milk, mounted like jewels.

His cheeks are like a bed of spices with towers of perfumes. His lips are like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.

His hands are like rings of gold set with beryl. His body is like ivory work overlaid with sapphires.

His legs are like pillars of marble set on sockets of fine gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

His mouth is sweetness; yes, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.

Where has your beloved gone, you fairest among women? Where has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you? Beloved

My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine. He browses among the lilies,

You are beautiful, my love, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, awesome as an army with banners.

Turn away your eyes from me, for they have overcome me. Your hair is like a flock of goats, that lie along the side of Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes, which have come up from the washing; of which every one has twins; no one is bereaved among them.

Your temples are like a piece of a pomegranate behind your veil.

There are sixty queens, eighty concubines, and virgins without number.

My dove, my perfect one, is unique. She is her mother’s only daughter. She is the favorite one of her who bore her. The daughters saw her, and called her blessed; the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.

Who is she who looks out as the morning, beautiful as the moon, clear as the sun, and awesome as an army with banners?

I went down into the nut tree grove, to see the green plants of the valley, to see whether the vine budded, and the pomegranates were in flower.

Return, return, Shulammite! Return, return, that we may gaze at you. Lover Why do you desire to gaze at the Shulammite, as at the dance of Mahanaim?

How beautiful are your feet in sandals, prince’s daughter! Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a skillful workman.

Your body is like a round goblet, no mixed wine is wanting. Your waist is like a heap of wheat, set about with lilies.

Your two breasts are like two fawns, that are twins of a roe.

Your neck is like an ivory tower. Your eyes are like the pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bathrabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon which looks toward Damascus.

Your head on you is like Carmel. The hair of your head like purple. The king is held captive in its tresses.

How beautiful and how pleasant you are, love, for delights!

This, your stature, is like a palm tree, your breasts like its fruit.

I said, “I will climb up into the palm tree. I will take hold of its fruit.” Let your breasts be like clusters of the vine, the smell of your breath like apples, Beloved

Your mouth like the best wine, that goes down smoothly for my beloved, gliding through the lips of those who are asleep.

Come, my beloved, let us go out into the field. Let us lodge in the villages.

Let’s go early up to the vineyards. Let’s see whether the vine has budded, its blossom is open, and the pomegranates are in flower. There I will give you my love.

The mandrakes produce fragrance. At our doors are all kinds of precious fruits, new and old, which I have stored up for you, my beloved.

Who is this who comes up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved? Under the apple tree I aroused you. There your mother conceived you. There she was in labor and bore you.

If she is a wall, we will build on her a turret of silver. if she is a door, we will enclose her with boards of cedar. Beloved

I am a wall, and my breasts like towers, then I was in his eyes like one who found peace.

You who dwell in the gardens, with friends in attendance, let me hear your voice! Beloved

Come away, my beloved! Be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of spices!

In that day the Lord will take away the beauty of their anklets, the headbands, the crescent necklaces,

the earrings, the bracelets, the veils,

the headdresses, the ankle chains, the sashes, the perfume bottles, the charms,

the hand mirrors, the fine linen garments, the tiaras, and the shawls.

It shall happen that instead of sweet spices, there shall be rottenness; instead of a belt, a rope; instead of well set hair, baldness; instead of a robe, a wearing of sackcloth; and branding instead of beauty.

In that day, Yahweh’s branch will be beautiful and glorious, and the fruit of the land will be the beauty and glory of the survivors of Israel.

Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldeans’ pride, will be like when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah.

Woe to the crown of pride of the drunkards of Ephraim, and to the fading flower of his glorious beauty, which is on the head of the fertile valley of those who are overcome with wine!

The fading flower of his glorious beauty, which is on the head of the fertile valley, shall be like the first-ripe fig before the summer; which someone picks and eats as soon as he sees it.

In that day, Yahweh of Armies will become a crown of glory, and a diadem of beauty, to the residue of his people;

Your eyes will see the king in his beauty. They will see a distant land.

It will blossom abundantly, and rejoice even with joy and singing. Lebanon’s glory will be given to it, the excellence of Carmel and Sharon. They will see Yahweh’s glory, the excellence of our God.

The voice of one saying, “Cry!” One said, “What shall I cry?” “All flesh is like grass, and all its glory is like the flower of the field.

The carpenter stretches out a line. He marks it out with a pencil. He shapes it with planes. He marks it out with compasses, and shapes it like the figure of a man, with the beauty of a man, to reside in a house.

Lift up your eyes all around, and see: all these gather themselves together, and come to you. As I live,” says Yahweh, “you shall surely clothe yourself with them all as with an ornament, and dress yourself with them, like a bride.

Awake, awake! Put on your strength, Zion. Put on your beautiful garments, Jerusalem, the holy city: for from now on the uncircumcised and the unclean will no more come into you.

How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news, who proclaims salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns!”

For he grew up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of dry ground. He has no good looks or majesty. When we see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.

“You afflicted, tossed with storms, and not comforted, behold, I will set your stones in beautiful colors, and lay your foundations with sapphires.

I will make your pinnacles of rubies, your gates of sparkling jewels, and all your walls of precious stones.

All the flocks of Kedar will be gathered together to you. The rams of Nebaioth will serve you. They will be accepted as offerings on my altar; and I will beautify my glorious house.