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Like David’s tower is your neck,
        splendidly built!
A thousand shields are hung upon it—
        all the weapons of the warriors.
Your two breasts are like two fawns,
        twins of a gazelle doe,
        that graze among the lilies.
Before the day breeze blows
        and the shadows flee,
        I will be off to the mountain of myrrh,
        to the hill of frankincense.

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