We are very little creatures; all of us have different features. One of us in glass is set; one of us you’ll find in jet. Another you may see in tin, and a fourth is boxed within. If the fifth you should pursue, it can never fly from you.
What are we?
The cost of making only the maker knows,
Valueless if bought, but sometimes traded.
A poor man may give one as easily as a king.
When one is broken pain and deceit are assured.
What am I?
With thieves, I consort,
With the vilest, in short,
I’m quite at ease in depravity;
Yet all divines use me,
And savants can’t lose me,
For I am the center of gravity.
Who am I?
It’s true I bring serenity,
And hang around the stars
But yet I live in misery;
You’ll find me behind bars
With thieves and villains I consort
In prison I’ll be found
But I would never go to court,
Unless there’s more than one
Every dawn begins with me
At dusk I’ll be the first you see
And daybreak couldn’t come without
What midday centers all about
Daises grow from me, I’m told
And when I come, I end all cold
But in the sun I won’t be found
Yet still, each day I’ll be around.
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