She is neither pink nor pale, <br />And she never will be all mine; <br />She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, <br />And her mouth on a valentine. <br />She has more hair than she needs; <br />In the sun 'tis a woe to me! <br />And her voice is a string of colored beads, <br />Or steps leading into the sea. <br />She loves me all that she can, <br />And her ways to my ways resign; <br />But she was not made for any man, <br />And she never will be all mine.<br /><br />Edna St Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/witch-wife-2/
