Answer:
I heard of a wonder, of words moth-eaten. That is a strange thing, I thought, weird. That a man's song be swallowed by a worm. His blinded sentences, his bedside stand-by rustled in the night - and the robber-guest. Not one wit the wiser. For the words he had mumbled.
Two horses, swiftest traveling, harnessed in a pair, and grazing ever in places. Distant from them.
When there is fire in me then I am still cold. When I own your true love’s face then you will not see me. To all things I give no more than I am given. In time I may have all things, and yet I can keep nothing.
Alive without breath, As cold as death, Clad in mail never clinking, Never thirsty, ever drinking
Soft and fragile is my skin, I get my growth in mud. I’m dangerous as much as pretty, for if not careful, I draw blood.
I can only be played on a windy day