October's loveliest flower, so wondrous blue,
Whose eyelids, softly fringed, still hold the dew
Of frosty autumn nights,
Yet smiles anew
When morn the hill-top lights!
Thou mindest me, by thy celestial dye,
Of our most Virgin Lady's heavenly eye;
So meekly hid
Beneath its fringèd lid;
With pity wet
For man, with ills beset.
For love of her I lay thee on her shrine;
Make my sweet duty to her, flowret mine,
And beg that eye, for Jesus's sake, to turn
On all who sigh and mourn
In frosty vales, and drear:
O Lady dear, accept and hear!