KISSES AND A RING.

I never behold the sea Rush up to the hand of the shore, And with its vehement lips Kiss its down-dropt whiteness o'er, But I think of that magic night, When my lips, like waves on a coast, Broke over the moonlit hand Of her that I love the most.

I never behold the surf Lit by the sun into gold, Curl and glitter and gleam, In a ring-like billow rolled, But I think of another ring, A simple, delicate band, That in the night of our troth I placed on a darling hand.