Marvel not at me that I am so black: For why? The sun hath shined upon me. My mother's children had evil will at me, they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.

There will I tarry for thee, my love, with mine host and with my chariots, which shall be no fewer than Pharaoh's.

My love is mine, and I am his, which feedeth among the lilies,

My love is mine, and I am his, which feedeth among the lilies.