Answer:
Who is it that rows quickly with four oars, but never comes out from under his own roof?
I have legs but walk not, a strong back but work not. Two good arms but reach not. A seat but sit and tarry not.
I'm the source of all emotion, but I'm caged in a white prison.
One by one we fall from heaven down into the depths of past, And our world is ever upturned so that yet some time we’ll last.
What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees. Up, up it goes, and yet never grows?
I can only be played on a windy day