Answer:
My life is often a volume of grief, your help is needed to turn a new leaf. Stiff is my spine and my body is pale. But I'm always ready to tell a tale.
No matter how little or how much you use me, you change me every month.
Runs smoother than any rhyme, loves to fall but cannot climb.
What flies without wings? What passes all things? What mends all sorrow? What brings the morrow?
It floats over the land, It cuts the tallest mountain, Its voice is like a fountain, Its body like a snake, Will flow into a lake.
Iām grown from darkness but shine with a pale light. Very round I am and always a lady's delight.