³¹ My harp also is turned to mourning, and my organ into the voice of them that weep.

⁶ And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest.

¹⁹ O deliver not the soul of thy turtledove unto the multitude of the wicked: forget not the congregation of thy poor for ever.

¹² The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;

¹⁴ O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

¹⁴ Like a crane or a swallow, so did I chatter: I did mourn as a dove: mine eyes fail with looking upward: O Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me.

¹¹ We roar all like bears, and mourn sore like doves: we look for judgment, but there is none; for salvation, but it is far off from us.

⁸ Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as the doves to their windows?

²⁸ O ye that dwell in Moab, leave the cities, and dwell in the rock, and be like the dove that maketh her nest in the sides of the hole's mouth.

¹⁶ But they that escape of them shall escape, and shall be on the mountains like doves of the valleys, all of them mourning, every one for his iniquity.