An Ayrshire Face

We meet at dinner. 'I come from Ayr!
My neighbour says; but I doubt if there;
Where Nature knows how to mould a man,
A fellow to mate him could be found.
And yet, as more carefully I scan —
Where is the wonder? Body round
And chubby, features smooth of wrinkle,
Modelled much in the peasant's style.
And 'twixt the lashes, and on the lip.
Bewitching the very cheeks, the twinkle
Of perfect temper, and in the smile —
(I think it was there the face appealed)
With softness either to win or yield.
And record of many a human slip —
A delicious fund of fellowship.