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.