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Your teeth are like a flock of shorn ewes
    that came up from the washing,
all of them bearing twins,
    and there is none bereaved among them.
Your lips are like a thread of crimson,
    and your mouth is lovely.
Your temple is like pomegranate
    from behind your veil.
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.

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Footnotes

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