7Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate Behind thy veil.
8There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, And virgins without number.
9My dove, my undefiled, is but one; She is the only one of her mother; She is the choice one of her that bare her. The daughters saw her, and called her blessed; Yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.
10Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, Fair as the moon, Clear as the sun, Terrible as an army with banners?