Answer:
First you see me in the grass dressed in yellow gay; next I am in dainty white, then I fly away. What am I?
I have a frame but no picture. I have poles but not standing up
I lose my head in the morning and regain it back at night. What am I?
I am heavy forward but backward I'm not.
I am in truth a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropped the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed.
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.