Explore "When Bessie Died" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
If from your own the dimpled hands had slipped, / And ne'er would nestle in your palm again; / If the white feet into the grave had tripped -- "
When Bessie died -- / We braided the brown hair, and tied / It just as her own little hands / Had fastened back the silken strands / A thousand times -- the crimson bit / Of ribbon woven into it / That she had worn with childish pride -- / Smoothed down the dainty bow -- and cried / When Bessie died.
When Bessie died -- / We drew the nursery blinds aside, / And as the morning in the room / Burst like a primrose into bloom, / Her pet canary's cage we hung / Where she might hear him when he sung -- / And yet not any note he tried, / Though she lay listening folded-eyed.
When Bessie died -- / We writhed in prayer unsatisfied: / We begged of God, and He did smile / In silence on us all the while; / And we did see Him, through our tears, / Enfolding that fair form of hers, / She laughing back against His love / The kisses had nothing of -- / And death to us He still denied, / When Bessie died -- / When Bessie died.