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 pressing     Mine 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 me     And touched me with dew-laden breath;     Or, maybe, close-sweeping, there passed me     The 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.