Answer:
Hands she has but does not hold. Teeth she has but does not bite. Feet she has but they are cold. Eyes she has but without sight.
Half-way up the hill, I see you at last, lying beneath me with your sounds and sights. A city in the twilight, dim and vast, with smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights.
Snake coiled round and round. Snake deep below the ground. Snake that's never had a head. Snake that binds but not with dread.
Two horses, swiftest traveling, harnessed in a pair, and grazing ever in places. Distant from them.
This thing runs but cannot walk, sometimes sings but never talks. Lacks arms, has handsΝΎ lacks a head but has a face.
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?