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Exact Match

They all hold swords, being expert in war: every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night.

His face is as beds of spices, giving out perfumes of every sort; his lips like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.

Come back, come back, O Shulammite; come back, come back, so that our eyes may see you. What will you see in the Shulammite? A sword-dance.