Witch-Wife

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

　　

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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 colored 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.

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