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Lo, thou [art] fair, my friend, lo, thou [art] fair, Thine eyes [are] doves behind thy veil, Thy hair as a row of the goats That have shone from mount Gilead,

Thy teeth as a row of the shorn ones That have come up from the washing, For all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.

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He

How beautiful you are, my darling!
    Oh, how beautiful!
    Your eyes behind your veil(A) are doves.(B)
Your hair is like a flock of goats
    descending from the hills of Gilead.(C)
Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn,
    coming up from the washing.
Each has its twin;
    not one of them is alone.(D)

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