She was here and she was gone but while she was here you could smell the sweetbriar bush she fell into after she hung herself for love. Oh, the ecstasy of the sweetness of love, it's like sugar thick and luscious, and there is the black rose which is more of a velvety fragrance than something from a rose. A tiny amount of heliotrope for the sun she will never again see. As beautiful as unrequited love. Story is that she just could not stand it's sweetness, not for lack of love. But she returns each year and manifests herself to those who go by.
The painting is by Arthur Wesley Dow from the late 19th century.