The Phantom Kiss
One night in my room, still and beamless,With will and with thought in eclipse,I rested in sleep that was dreamless;When softly there fell on my lips
A touch, as of lips that were pressingMine own with the message of bliss—A sudden, soft, fleeting caressing,A breath like a maiden’s first kiss.
I woke-and the scoffer may doubt me—I peered in surprise through the gloom;But nothing and none were about me,And I was alone in my room.
Perhaps ‘t was the wind that caressed meAnd touched me with dew-laden breath;Or, maybe, close-sweeping, there passed meThe low-winging Angel of Death.
Some sceptic may choose to disdain it,Or one feign to read it aright;Or wisdom may seek to explain it—This mystical kiss in the night.
But rather let fancy thus clear it:That, thinking of me here alone,The miles were made naught, and, in spirit,Thy lips, love, were laid on mine own.