A Benedictine convent has now retained the most learned father of their order to write in its defence.}}

Mother sits beside thee smiling: Sleep, my darling, tenderly! If thou sleep not, mother mourneth, Singing as her wheel she turneth: Come, soft slumber, balmily.

Let me know when you've had your interview, however it goes.

For the Carmina Burana, see the introductory essay on goliardic poetry (i.e., the recreational poetry of medieval clerics) in Edward Blodgett and Arthur Swanson's translation, The Love Songs of the Carmina Burana (1987).