Answer:
We are five little objects of an everyday sort, You will find us all in a tennis court.
Dies half its life. Lives the rest. Dances without music. Breathes without breath.
I am always in front of you, but you will never see me. What am I?
What tastes better than it smells?
My love, when I gaze on thy beautiful face. Careering along, yet always in place, the thought has often come into my mind. If I ever shall see thy glorious behind.
I can only be played on a windy day