A Rose a Day No.43

This huge rose has been drawn in the sand!

It’s interesting take on Sir Richard Fanshawe poem about the transience of life, in this case aided and abetted by the tide:

Thou blushing rose, within whose virgin leaves

 The wanton wind to sport himself presumes,

Whist from their rifled wardrobe he receives

 For his wings purple, for his breath perfumes;

Blown in the morning, thou shalt fade ere noon,

What boots a life which in such haste forsakes thee.

Sir Richard Fanshawe, ‘A Rose’ [1607]

Thanks to Erin Macairt for sending me this via Instagram: #rachelshiamh, #monolofroelich