a little witchyness

Witch-Wife

She is neither pink nor pale,

       And she never will be all mine;

She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,

       And her mouth on a valentine.



She has more hair than she needs;

       In the sun `tis a woe to me!

And her voice is a string of coloured beads,

       Or steps leading into the sea.



She loves me all that she can,

       And her ways to my ways resign;

But she was not made for any man,

       And she never will be all mine.

-- Edna St. Vincent Millay