142 <br /> <br />Whose are the little beds, I asked <br />Which in the valleys lie? <br />Some shook their heads, and others smiled— <br />And no one made reply. <br /> <br />Perhaps they did not hear, I said, <br />I will inquire again— <br />Whose are the beds—the tiny beds <br />So thick upon the plain? <br /> <br />'Tis Daisy, in the shortest— <br />A little further on— <br />Nearest the door—to wake the Ist— <br />Little Leontoden. <br /> <br />'Tis Iris, Sir, and Aster— <br />Anemone, and Bell— <br />Bartsia, in the blanket red— <br />And chubby Daffodil. <br /> <br />Meanwhile, at many cradles <br />Her busy foot she plied— <br />Humming the quaintest lullaby <br />That ever rocked a child. <br /> <br />Hush! Epigea wakens! <br />The Crocus stirs her lids— <br />Rhodora's cheek is crimson, <br />She's dreaming of the woods! <br /> <br />Then turning from them reverent— <br />Their bedtime 'tis, she said— <br />The Bumble bees will wake them <br />When April woods are red.<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whose-are-the-little-beds-i-asked/
