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?
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