In the prospect of the sands.

 Time for a rose is fleeting as graceful reality of a pearl withstands, the falling grains of a life well lived, in the prospect of the sands

For any rose delightful, may waste away from the gardens loins, and so become a memory cast, Where once such love made joins,

There it may be a whithered fragment, but beauty cast the first desire, to place well fit the roses position, to give when love was fire

And so the rose like timely skin, may of beauty rich abstain the light, and never fade away as ugly or even out of sight

When the proceeding rose has it final petals call The essence of its peacefulness then begins to fall, into a greater gesture knowing of the heart, it's the way of life, the rose adue must part.