if drinking beer would bring [him] here

Sometimes in a rough beam sea,
When the waves are running high,
I gaze about for a sight of the land,
Then sing, glancing up at the sky,
"Here's to the girl I love,
And I wish that she were nigh,
If drinking beer would bring her here
I'd drink the ship's hold dry."

[Marianne Moore, "The Sentimentalist," in The Poems of Marianne Moore]