Answer:
You throw me out when you want to use me and you take me in when you don't want to use me. Who am I?
Without a bridle, or a saddle, across a thing I ride a-straddle. And those I ride, by help of me, though almost blind, are made to see.
A slow, solemn square-dance of warriors feinting. One by one they fall, warriors fainting, thirty-two on sixty-four.
A little house full of meat, no door to go in and eat.
What surrounds the world, yet dwells within a thimble?
What language does a billboard speak?