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I am the rose of Sharon, |
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and the lily of the valleys. |
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As the lily among thorns, |
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so is my love among the daughters. |
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As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, |
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so is my beloved among the sons. |
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I sat down under his shadow with great delight, |
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and his fruit was sweet to my taste. |
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He brought me to the banqueting house, |
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and his banner over me was love. |
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Stay me with flagons, |
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comfort me with apples: |
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for I am sick of love. |
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His left hand is under my head, |
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and his right hand doth embrace me. |
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I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, |
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by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, |
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that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, |
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till he please. |
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The voice of my beloved! |
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behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, |
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skipping upon the hills. |
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My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: |
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behold, he standeth behind our wall, |
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he looketh forth at the windows, |
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shewing himself through the lattice. |
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My beloved spake, and said unto me, |
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Rise up, my love, |
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my fair one, and come away. |
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For, lo, the winter is past, |
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the rain is over and gone. |
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The flowers appear on the earth; |
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the time of the singing of birds is come, |
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and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; |
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The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, |
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and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. |
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Arise, my love, |
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my fair one, and come away. |
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O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, |
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in the secret places of the stairs, |
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let me see thy countenance, |
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let me hear thy voice; |
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for sweet is thy voice, |
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and thy countenance is comely. |
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Take us the foxes, |
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the little foxes, |
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that spoil the vines: |
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for our vines have tender grapes. |
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My beloved is mine, and I am his: |
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he feedeth among the lilies. |
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Until the day break, |
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and the shadows flee away, |
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turn, my beloved, |
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and be thou like a roe |
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or a young hart |
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upon the mountains of Bether. |
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