The speaker is in love with a woman who fascinates him and partly returns his love, but he knows he can never fully possess or understand her. She is described in strange, fairy-tale terms: her hands, mouth, hair, and voice all feel enchanted, sensuous, and a little otherworldly. Her voice is like colored beads or steps leading into the sea—beautiful, but always moving beyond him. He admires her deeply, yet that admiration is mixed with sadness and frustration; the sun on her hair is “a woe to me.” She bends her habits to his and loves him as much as she can, but he repeats that she “never will be all mine,” because she was not made for any man. The mood is wistful and spellbound, full of longing for someone whose independence and magic make complete closeness impossible.
Witch-Wife — Summary
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 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.