“Your hair is like a flock of goats that leap
and from the hills of Gilead runs down.
Your teeth are like a flock of spotless sheep
each with its twin—not one of them alone.
There may be sixty queens, all beautiful,
and eighty concubines above critique,
and virgins beyond count available.
But you—my perfect one—you are unique.
The maidens saw you and they called you blest.
The royal wives admired you from afar.
‘Who is this that appears like dawn,’ they pressed,
‘fair as the moon, majestic as the stars?
She shines as brightly as the noonday sun.
None dazzles more than this most splendid one.’”
|My Sweet Rose, John William Waterhouse, 1903|