THE SHEPHERD, ADVANCING TO THE SHULAMITE.
1 Chap. IV. Behold, thou art beautiful, my loved one,
Behold, thou art beautiful!
Thine eyes are doves behind thy veil;
Thy hair is like a flock of goats,
Springing down Mount Gilead. [[155]]
2 Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep
Which come up from the washing-pool,
All of which are paired,
And not one among them is bereaved.