HEO my dove! In the retreats of the crag, in the hiding-place of the terrace, Let me see thy form, Let me hear thy voice, - For, thy voice, is sweet, and, thy form, comely.

Thy teeth, are like a flock, evenly grown, which have come up from the washing-place, - whereof, all of them, are twin-bearers, and bereaved, is none among them:

Thy teeth, are like a flock of sheep which have come up from the washing-place, - whereof, all of them, are twin-bearers, and bereaved, is there none among them: