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 /> <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 coloured beads, <br /> Or steps leading into the sea. <br /> <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/
