From churning's dance, a golden birth, Though cows provide, I'm not of earth, What am I, spread with sunny worth?

Backwards, I mean to take great pleasure. Forwards, I have class :: three of them :: and make work easier.

Your actions are the cause of my state, I grow taller without a spine or weight. I am finished, but never truly done, Yet I grow larger the further you run.

I have one tooth unlike the three of Lord Poseidon's weaponry. My name: An angelic instrument ended like a typhoon. Yet Ahab, I failed to kill the white whale, guess me for a boon.

I have a string, a handle, a frame, and a paper spread over me. I fly