Answer:
We are five little objects of an everyday sort. You will find us all in a tennis court.
The more you take, the more you leave behind.
Once they sailed the sea, now they surf the web
White bird, featherless, flying out of paradise. Flying over sea and land. Dying in my hand.
I saw a strange creature. Long, hard, and straight, thrusting into a round, dark opening. Preparing to discharge its load of lives. Puffing and squealing noises accompanied it, then a final screech as it slowed and stopped.
I fly to any foreign parts assisted by my spreading wings. My body holds an hundred hearts Nay I will tell you stranger things when I am not in haste I ride and then I mend my pace anon.