This never would do for you!)
But her fear of the world was more than her fear
Of loveliness losing its due—
Of tortures that thrill’d her through:
And neither the sackcloth she wore to her skin,
Nor her spiky belt thereto,
Could ever elicit the faintest complaint
From the blessed St. Rose of Peru.
When Love drew near with its honey’d words,
And tenderly tried to woo,