96 <br /> <br />Sexton! My Master's sleeping here. <br />Pray lead me to his bed! <br />I came to build the Bird's nest, <br />And sow the Early seed— <br /> <br />That when the snow creeps slowly <br />From off his chamber door— <br />Daisies point the way there— <br />And the Troubadour.<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sexton-my-master-s-sleeping-here/
