Answer:
A time when they're green. A time when they're brown. But both of these times, cause me to frown. But just in between, for a very short while. They're perfect and yellow. And cause me to smile.
Dies half its life. Lives the rest. Dances without music. Breathes without breath.
Runs smoother than any rhyme, loves to fall but cannot climb.
Without a bridle, or a saddle, across a thing I ride a-straddle. And those I ride, by help of me, though almost blind, are made to see.
My first is high, My second damp, My whole a tie, A writer's cramp
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?