Answer:
Halo of water, tongue of wood. Skin of stone, long I've stood. My fingers short reach to the sky. Inside my heart men live and die.
You seek it out, when your hunger is ripe. It sits on four legs, and smokes a pipe.
I am always hungry, I must always be fed. The finger I lick will soon turn red.
Reaching stiffly for the sky, I bare my fingers when its cold. In warmth I wear an emerald glove and in between I dress in gold.
Break it and it is better, immediately set and harder to break again
What sphinxes employ and players enjoy.