We are very little creatures; all of us have different features. One of us in glass is set; one of us youโll 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,
Iโm quite at ease in depravity;
Yet all divines use me,
And savants canโt lose me,
For I am the center of gravity.
Who am I?
Itโs true I bring serenity,
And hang around the stars
But yet I live in misery;
Youโll find me behind bars
With thieves and villains I consort
In prison Iโll be found
But I would never go to court,
Unless thereโs more than one
Every dawn begins with me
At dusk Iโll be the first you see
And daybreak couldnโt come without
What midday centers all about
Daises grow from me, Iโm told
And when I come, I end all cold
But in the sun I wonโt be found
Yet still, each day Iโll be around.
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