I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?

A sigil of a victory, I make commitments true. A sign my form is starting to fail is when the air is blue. Collected by many, and cherished dear, To form their personal hoards, You may have met me by land of green hills, Or a novel about my lord.

What is three-sevenths chicken, two-thirds cat, and half goat?

I can break and bend. I can fall, rise, and wend. I can be fast or slow, I can be wide or narrow. I may be many things as I run, from where I begun. I hope to carve the earth, and never wither. Of course, I am a?

I point the way to where you are, through storm and shadow, near and far. With needle’s dance, both calm and mild, I call to every sailor, ocean’s wild.