Monday in Easter Week

As apple-trees among the trees
Of all the wood appear,
So my Beloved among the sons
Is beautiful and dear.

I sat under His shadow,
Sat down with great delight.
His fruit was sweet unto my taste.
And pleasant to my sight.

He brought me to His banquet-house.
His banners o'er me move;
Stay me with flagons, comfort me,
For I am sick of love.

His left hand is my head's support,
His right my heart's repose,
daughters of Jerusalem!
I chaise you by the roes.

And by the hinds that haunt the field,
And by this hour of ease,
O, stir not up my Best-beloved,
Nor wake Him, till He please!