Vikings blew on me, the Greek drank from me and rhinos wear me.

A thousand cranes take flight from a single square, where gentle creases whisper tales of art, and paper dreams fold into life.

My first part follows the bank, my second part holds letters. Both parts together gather your thoughts and other jottings.

When dryness or pollen cause you grief, this little item brings relief.

Mostly a relic today, If you were aboard the largest of me In nineteen thirty seven, You might be climbing the stairway to heaven.