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Purer were her Nazarites than snow, Whiter than milk, ruddier of body than rubies, Of sapphire their form.

Darker than blackness hath been their visage, They have not been known in out-places, Cleaved hath their skin unto their bone, It hath withered -- it hath been as wood.

Better have been the pierced of a sword Than the pierced of famine, For these flow away, pierced through, Without the increase of the field.

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Their princes were brighter than snow
    and whiter than milk,
their bodies more ruddy than rubies,
    their appearance like lapis lazuli.

But now they are blacker(A) than soot;
    they are not recognized in the streets.
Their skin has shriveled on their bones;(B)
    it has become as dry as a stick.

Those killed by the sword are better off
    than those who die of famine;(C)
racked with hunger, they waste away
    for lack of food from the field.(D)

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