Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are as doves behind thy veil. Thy hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of mount Gilead. Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes that are newly shorn, Which are come up from the washing, Whereof every one hath twins, And none is bereaved among them. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, And thy mouth is comely. Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind thy veil. Thy neck is like the tower of David Builded for an armory, Whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, All the shields of the mighty men. Thy two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe, Which feed among the lilies. Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, And to the hill of frankincense. Thou art all fair, my love; And there is no spot in thee.
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