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Your neck is like the tower of David,
    built in courses;
a thousand ornaments[a] are hung on it,
    all the shields of the warriors.
Your two breasts are like two fawns,
    twins of a gazelle that feed among the lilies.
Until the day breathes and the shadows flee,
    I will go to the mountain of the myrrh,
        to the hill of the frankincense.

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Footnotes

  1. Song of Solomon 4:4 Literally “shields”