Answer:
A tiny bead, like fragile glass, strung along a cord of grass.
Up on high I wave away but not a word can I say.
The stack just might be sent all over. Full of what's new, yet it's nearly obsolete.
It is able to speak because it has a hard gone. You know what it is as soon as it has sung. What is it?
I'm sometimes white and always wrong. I can break a heart and hurt the strong. I can build love or tear it down. I can make a smile or bring a frown.
Iām grown from darkness but shine with a pale light. Very round I am and always a lady's delight.