Short Stories Poems The Babie

The Babie

I found “The Babie” in Stedman’s “Anthology.” It is placed in this volume by permission of the poet, Jeremiah Eames Rankin, of Cleveland (1828-), because it captured the heart of a ten-year-old boy whose fancy was greatly moved by the two beautiful lines:

“Her face is like an angel’s face,
I’m glad she has no wings.”

Nae shoon to hide her tiny taes,
Nae stockin’ on her feet;
Her supple ankles white as snaw,
Or early blossoms sweet.
Her simple dress o’ sprinkled pink,
Her double, dimplit chin,
Her puckered lips, and baumy mou’,
With na ane tooth within.
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.

Jeremiah Eames Rankin.

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