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Paul Laurence Dunbar - The Phantom Kiss
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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.
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