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