Witch-Wife
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he 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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