Works with a reel to fish Works with a cone to see Holds a curtain, if you wish Or spare it and spoil a child in Nineteen Oh Three

I was born to chase horizons, Racing storms no man could tame. Kingdoms waited for my cargo, And distant ports all knew my name. The seas released me from their grip. What once outran the wind itself, Now passes lightly by your lip. What once was measured out in miles, Is now measured out in hair. What am I?

I descend from tyrant kings of old, which roamed and ruled free of fear, Yet today I can be bought or sold, and you think me a coward, I hear, But between me and my oval mold, you don't know what was first to appear

Small in size yet vast in wisdom, I guide others through paths they do not yet understand. My words may seem strange, but truth lies within them. Strength flows through me not from size, but from connection to something greater. What am I?

I may command a marching line, or speak in terms not broadly defined. In war I rank, in talk I blur, the same one word can both confer.