I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, As the tents of Kedar, As the curtains of Solomon. Look not upon me, because I am black, Because the sun hath looked upon me: My mother's children were angry with me; They made me the keeper of the vineyards; But mine own vineyard have I not kept. Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: For why should I be as one that turneth aside By the flocks of thy companions? If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, Go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, And feed thy kids Beside the shepherds' tents. I have compared thee, O my love, To a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, Thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold With studs of silver. While the King sitteth at his table, My spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof.
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