Witch-Wife by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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.

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Other poems by 'Edna St. Vincent Millay'

I Think I Should Have Loved You

Spring

Departure

God's World

Alms

I Shall Forget You Presently

Sweet Love, Sweet Thorn, When Lightly To My Heart

Sonnet (Women Have Loved Before As I Love Now)

The Death Of Autumn

Night Is My Sister, And How Deep In Love

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