| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | X. The Pity of It When Bessie died | | By James Whitcomb Riley (18491916) |
| | | WHEN Bessie died | |
| We braided the brown hair, and tied | |
| It just as her own little hands | |
| Had fastened back the silken strands | |
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| A thousand timesthe crimson bit | 5 |
| Of ribbon woven into it | |
| That she had worn with childish pride | |
| Smoothed down the dainty bowand cried | |
| When Bessie died. | |
| |
| When Bessie died | 10 |
| We drew the nursery blinds aside, | |
| And, as the morning in the room | |
| Burst like a primrose into bloom, | |
| Her pet canarys cage we hung | |
| Where she might hear him when he sung | 15 |
| And yet not any note he tried, | |
| Though she lay listening folded-eyed. | |
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| When Bessie died | |
| We writhed in prayer unsatisfied; | |
| We begged of God, and He did smile | 20 |
| In silence 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 we had nothing of | 25 |
| And death to us He still denied, | |
| When Bessie died | | | | |
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