Draw me; we will run after thee: The king hath brought me into his chambers; We will be glad and rejoice in thee; We will make mention of thy love more than of wine: Rightly do they love thee. 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 swarthy, Because the sun hath scorched me. My mother’s sons were incensed against me; They made me keeper of the vineyards; But mine own vineyard have I not kept. Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest thy flock, Where thou makest it to rest at noon: For why should I be as one that is veiled Beside 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.
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