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.

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