At The Piano Thomas Hardy

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.