Answer:
A muttered rumble was heard from the pen, and I, in my walking stopped to look in. What was this I saw? A massive beast, hoofed, and jawed. With spikes upon its mighty brow, I watched as he struck the turf and prowled. And yet for all of his magnificence, he couldn't get out of that wooden fence.
They can float and tickle, but their sound is rarely heard unless you're a pillow or bird. What are they?
Who spends the day at the window, goes to the table for meals. And hides at night?
The sun bakes them, the hand breaks them, the foot treads on them, and the mouth tastes them.
The higher I climb, the hotter I engage. I cannot escape from my crystal cage.
People take me on walks and I run and have fun. What am I?