Answer:
Four of us are in your field, But our differences keep us at yield, First, a one that is no fool, Though he resembles a gardenerโs tool, Next, one difficult to split in two, And a girl once had one as big as her shoe, Then, to the mind, oneโs a lovely bonder, And truancy makes it grow fonder, Last, a stem connecting dots of three
To unravel me you need a simple key, no key that was made by locksmith's hand. But a key that only I will understand.
Through its wounds, water does run. It once held many but now has none. What is it?
Golden treasure I contain, Guarded by hundreds and thousands. Stored in a labyrinth where no man walks, Yet men come often to seize my gold. By smoke I am overcome and robbed, then left to build my treasure anew
In marble halls as white as milk, lined with a skin as soft as silk. Within a fountain crystal-clear. A golden apple doth appear. No doors there are to this stronghold, yet thieves break in and steal the gold.
Black we are and much admired. Many seek us if they are tired. We tire the horse, and comfort man, and turn White when we've fulfilled your plan.