Classic Poem

Who made thee thy last spring doublet, Cavalier Earth,
That sat so trim to the curve of thy manful girth
As thou wert a-riding?—'Twas he.—
Who brought thee, Ship, straight over the surly sea,
Forging steadily, westward steadily,
Sails hilarious, sea-current readily
Serving?—He:
Out of two caldrons of air and sea
He wrought me the trade-wind that faithfully blew me,
Set me the sea-tide that servant-wise drew me,
Forging steadily, westward steadily,
Over the surly sea.