Look not upon me, because I am dark, because the sun has darkened me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but my own vineyard have I not kept.

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

The watchmen that went about the city found me, they struck me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

Turn away your eyes from me, for they have overcome me: your hair is as a flock of goats going down from Gilead.

My dove, my perfect one, is the only one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the favorite one of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and blessed her; yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.