To and fro in a room of her sacred conventual dwelling,
Clad in garments of serge, with a veil in the style of her Order,
Mass-book and rosary too, with a bunch of keys at her girdle,
Walk'd, with a pensive air, Beatrice the Carmelite sister.
Fair of aspect was she, but a trifle vivacious and worldly,
And not altogether cut out for a life of devout contemplation.
More of freedom already had she than the rest of the sisters,
For hers was the duty to ope the gates of the convent, and take in
Messages, parcels, et cetera, from those who came to the wicket.
Ever and often she paused to gaze on the face of Our Lady,