Witch-Wife Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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.
Ah the woman who will never wholly belong to one man! Now I know why I've so often been called a witch! ! ! !
this poem is epic... she express her thoughts for her lover which is a female.. whom she refers to as witch-wife! tsk tsk tsk! i know the feeling
I love this one. It is, to me, a poem from a man's point expressing the knowledge that a woman may resign to his ways, and be a good wife, but she is too much herself inwardly to ever belong to him or anyone else. She is, through and through, herself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 2:08:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
What a beautiful poem dear poet: congratulations! I loved its rhymes, its cadence, its poetical message! Surely I will read more poems by you - a real pleasure!