Whose are the little beds, I asked

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.

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Whose are the little beds, I asked