Arthur Stringer’s speaker keeps rejecting the huge, impersonal things — the sea, the body, the earth — in favor of what moves through or against them: ships, spirit, human beings. He admires anything that dares, endures, defies, and survives. The sea matters only because ships cross it; flesh matters only because a soul drives it; the earth matters only because people fill it with love, color, and passion. The repeated “It isn’t... But...” structure creates a rising, almost stubborn energy, as if the speaker is correcting anyone who mistakes the container for the life inside it. The ending questions make the point plain: without ships, soul, and love, the world would be empty. The mood is bold and life-affirming, with a touch of impatience toward anything passive or merely physical.
The Meaning — Summary
It isn't the Sea that I love, But the ships That must dare and endure and defy and survive it! It isn't the flesh that I love, But the spirit That guides and derides and controls and outlives it! It isn't this earth that I love, But the mortals Who give to it meaning and colour and passion and life! For what is the Sea without ships? And what is the flesh without soul? And what is a world without love?