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eyed, O woman of my dreams, Ivory sandaled, There is none like thee among the dancers, None with swift feet.

I have not found thee in the tents, In the broken darkness. I have not found thee at the well-head Among the women with pitchers.

Thine arms are as a young sapling under the bark; Thy face as a river with lights.

White as an almond are thy shoulders; As new almonds stripped from the husk.

They guard thee not with eunuchs; Not with bars of copper.