I mind it well, by the sea-beach lying,
Once—it’s long gone—when two gulls we beheld,
Which, as the moon got up, were flying
Down a big wave that sparked and swelled.
Crack, went a gun: one fell: the second
Wheeled round him twice, and was off for new luck:
There in the dark her white wing beckon’d:—
Drop me a kiss—I’m the bird dead-struck!