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Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are doves behind thy veil; Thy hair is as a flock of goats, On the slopes of mount Gilead.

Thy teeth are like a flock of shorn sheep, Which go up from the washing; Which have all borne twins, And none is barren 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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