The Babie by Hugh Miller

Nae shoon to hide her tiny taes,
Nae stockings on her feet;
Her supple ankles white as snow,
Or early blossoms sweet.
Her simple dress of sprinkled pink,
Her double, dimpled chin;
Her pucker’d lip and bonny mou’,
With nae ane tooth between.
Her een sae like her mither’s een,
Twa gentle, liquid things;
Her face is like an angel’s face—
We’re glad she has nae wings.