Thomas Hardy — At The Piano

A woman was playing,          A man looking on;         And the mould of her face,         And her neck, and her hair,         Which the rays fell upon         Of the two candles there, Sent him mentally straying         In some fancy-place         Where pain had no trace. A cowled Apparition         Came pushing between;         And her notes seemed to sigh,         And the lights to burn pale,         As a spell numbed the scene.         But the maid saw no bale, And the man no monition;         And Time laughed awry,         And the Phantom hid nigh.