Answer:
This thing all things devours: Birds, beasts, trees, flowers; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; Slays king, ruins town, And beats high mountains down.
Lives without a body, hears without ears, speaks without a mouth, to which the air alone gives birth. What is it?
Always old, sometimes new. Never sad, sometimes blue. Never empty, sometimes full. Never pushes, always pulls.
I'm not really more than holes tied to more holes. I'm strong as good steel, though not as stiff as a pole.
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.
Iām grown from darkness but shine with a pale light. Very round I am and always a lady's delight.