I ask no permission before I descend. I hide sharp edges and blur where things end. I have sheltered kings from winter's bite, And spared their allies from judgment's light. I may silence a mountain beneath silent white, Or smother dissent with a single decree. Whatever lies beneath me, Soon becomes harder to see. What am I?

I'm a terror of air, land and sea, A true mainstay of mythology, My golden hoard is my one desire, Bend knee to me or taste my fire Hatched from egg and born of flame, My nature is not to be tamed, But some have earned partnership from me, With acts of ruthlessness, cunning or bravery

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