"The Sun doth make the marigold to flourish, The Sun’s departure makes it droop again; So golden Mary’s sight my joys do nourish, But by their absence all my joys are slain. The Sun the marigold makes live and die, By her the Sun shines brighter, so may I. Her smiles do grace the Sun, and light the air, Revive my heart, and clear the cloudy sky; Her frowns the air make dark, the sun to lower, The marigold to close, my heart to die. By her the sun, the flower, the air, and I, Shine and darken, spread, and close, live and die. You are the Sun, you are the golden Mary, Passing the sun in brightness, gold in power: I am the flower whom you do make to vary; Flourish when you smile, droop when you do lower. Oh let this heart of gold, sun, and flower, Still live, shine, and spring in your heart’s bower."