Answer:
A hill full, a hole full, yet you cannot catch a bowl full.
Creatures of power, creatures of grade, creatures of beauty, creatures of strength. As for their lives, they set everything's pace. For all things must come to live. Under their emerald embraceย Either in their life or in their death.
Runs smoother than any rhyme, loves to fall but cannot climb!
Gold in a leather bag, swinging on a tree, money after honey in its time. Ills of a scurvy crew cured by the sea, reason in its season but no rhyme.
Fatherless and motherless. Born without sin, roared when it came into the world. And never spoke again.
I break away from my pack. I create holes in my victims. I can travel for miles and then disappear. I am part of a dying breed. What am I?