Jenjin

Deep purple Syrah, calamus, myrrh smoke, hyssop, opoponax, bitter clove, burgundy pitch, opium poppy, and violet leaf.

I have passed from the outermost portal

To the shrine where a sin is a prayer;

What care though the service be mortal?

O our Lady of Torture, what care?

All thine the last wine that I pour is,

The last in the chalice we drain,

O fierce and luxurious Dolores,

Our Lady of Pain.

Red roses, heady Moroccan musk, cinnamon, lobelia, coconut flesh, magnolia blossoms, and tobacco tar.

Could you hurt me, sweet lips, though I hurt you?
Men touch them, and change in a trice
The lilies and languors of virtue
For the raptures and roses of vice;
Those lie where thy foot on the floor is,
These crown and caress thee and chain,
O splendid and sterile Dolores,
                  Our Lady of Pain.

Calla lilies and lily of the valley with white lilac, narcissus, osmanthus, asphodel, and Egyptian musk.

Could you hurt me, sweet lips, though I hurt you?
Men touch them, and change in a trice
The lilies and languors of virtue
For the raptures and roses of vice;
Those lie where thy foot on the floor is,
These crown and caress thee and chain,
O splendid and sterile Dolores,
                  Our Lady of Pain.

Sweet red wine, oakmoss, ambergris accord, ylang ylang, and Spanish mandarin.

All thine the new wine of desire,

The fruit of four lips as they clung

Till the hair and the eyelids took fire,

The foam of a serpentine tongue,

The froth of the serpents of pleasure,

More salt than the foam of the sea,

Now felt as a flame, now at leisure

As wine shed for me.

Cypress, honey myrtle, yew, peace lily, ivy, and black rose.

The desire of thy furious embraces

Is more than the wisdom of years,

On the blossom though blood lie in traces,

Though the foliage be sodden with tears.

For the lords in whose keeping the door is

That opens on all who draw breath

Gave the cypress to love, my Dolores,

The myrtle to death.

We are the smuttiest. Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

Pale gilded lilies and roses in the labdanum shadow of a yew tree, a sprig of forget-me-not,
the dwindling memory of a genteel cologne, and the honeyed breathlessness of a kiss.

My sister Death! I pray thee come to me

Of thy sweet charity,

And be my nurse but for a little while;

I will indeed lie still,

And not detain thee long, when once is spread,

Beneath the yew, my bed:

I will not ask for lillies or for roses;

But when the evening closes,

Just take from any brook a single knot

Of pale Forget-me-not,

And lay them in my hand, until I wake,

For his dear sake;

(For should he ever pass and by me stand,

He might understand ―)

Then heal the passion and the fever

With one cool kiss, for ever.

– Digby Mackworth Dolben 

No additional scent description.

No additional scent description.

White rose and hothouse orchids with honey musk, wild plum, black patchouli, and geranium.

Rose petal incense, twinkling white musk, sensuous labdanum, rhubarb, dried strawberries, and red amber.

Black roses, Pashmina oud, clove bud, opoponax, kyphi smoke, tobacco absolute, and orris butter.

Rose sap, gleaming ivy, orris root, sweet oakmoss, pine needle, lime rind, and juniper.

Lavender rose petals, coconut husk, cerulean blue musk, agave, and blueberry resin.

This muffin bites back:
tender chunks of tart rhubarb stalks spangled with oven-browned sugar crystals,
nestled in a crown of golden cake generously marbled with jet-streams of warm custard.

Cacao, red patchouli, night-blooming jasmine, Roman chamomile, and white tea.

Thou shalt touch and make redder his roses

With juice not of fruit nor of bud;

When the sense in the spirit reposes,

Thou shalt quicken the soul through the blood.

Thine, thine the one grace we implore is,

Who would live and not languish or feign,

O sleepless and deadly Dolores,

Our Lady of Pain.

Crimson roses, poppies white and red.

Lilies, lilies not for me,

Flowers of the pure and saintly ―

I have seen in holy places

Where the incense rises faintly,

And the priest the chalice raises,

Lilies in the altar vases,

       Not for me.

Leave untouched each garden tree,

Kings and queens of flower-land.

When the summer evening closes,

Lovers may-be hand in hand

There will seek for crimson roses,

There will bind their wreaths and posies

       Merrily.

From the corn-fields where we met

Pluck me poppies white and red;

Bind them round my weary brain,

Strew them on my narrow bed,

Numbing all the ache and pain. ―

I shall sleep nor wake again,
 

But forget.

– Digby Mackworth Dolben 

The shuddering beat of a poet’s heart ―filigree-fair, diaphanous:
bourbon vanilla fougere, violet leaf, iris root, Italian bergamot, porcelain accord, and a trickle of red musk.

Well, if my heart must break,

    Dear love, for your sake,

It will break in music, I know;

    Poets’ hearts break so.

But strange that I was not told,

    That the brain can hold

In a tiny ivory cell

    God’s Heaven and Hell.

– Oscar Wilde
 

A whipped green dream, pale and pillowy with multicolored mini marshmallows,
densely studded with bits of pineapple, mandarin, and shredded coconut.

It’s not quite as fun when you lose the key.
Pink cotton candy, candied rose, and vanilla sugar.

Sumatran patchouli, blood musk, white lavender, opium tar, and black orchid.

Cold eyelids that hide like a jewel

Hard eyes that grow soft for an hour;

The heavy white limbs, and the cruel

Red mouth like a venomous flower;

When these are gone by with their glories,

What shall rest of thee then, what remain,

O mystic and sombre Dolores,

Our Lady of Pain?

Black opium, wild plum, cypress tar, Bulgarian rose, olibanum, black orchid, and tobacco.

They were purple of raiment and golden,

Filled full of thee, fiery with wine,

Thy lovers, in haunts unbeholden,

In marvellous chambers of thine.

They are fled, and their footprints escape us,

Who appraise thee, adore, and abstain,

O daughter of Death and Priapus,

Our Lady of Pain.

Whipped cream squished between luscious layers of pale green sponge, topped with hunks of syrup-glazed honeydew.

Sweet, sorrowful, doomed longing:

somnambulic lavender, wild plum, Siamese benzoin, and sugared opium tar.

Vous me baisez comme une soeur:

Ces baisers sont pleins de douceur;

Mais souffrez que je les condamne.

Je ne suis qu’un mortel, ô[ô] nouvelle Diane,

Pourquoi me traitez-vous ainsi qu’un Apollon?

Je serai trop heureux du sort d’Endimion.

You kiss me like a sister,

Kisses filled with sweetness;

Yet you must allow me to condemn them,

For I’m only mortal, my Diane;

Why treat me like Apollo great?

I’d be so happy with Endymion’s fate.

– Pauline de Simiane

Blackberry hops, blackened raspberry gum, purple chypre, and myrrh.

Thou wert fair in the fearless old fashion,

And thy limbs are as melodies yet,

And move to the music of passion

With lithe and lascivious regret.

What ailed us, O gods, to desert you

For creeds that refuse and restrain?

Come down and redeem us from virtue,

Our Lady of Pain.