Answer:
I heard of a wonder, of words moth-eaten. That is a strange thing, I thought, weird. That a man's song be swallowed by a worm. His blinded sentences, his bedside stand-by rustled in the night - and the robber-guest. Not one wit the wiser. For the words he had mumbled.
You can always see it, but it's too far away to touch. Mountains rest on it, and at sea it surrounds you. What is it?
I count time, but have no end. Tick tick, but I am not a clock. What am I?
I am a span of time you can always see through I am also the timepiece with the most pieces. What am I?
Walk on the living, they don't even mumble. Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble.
The warmer I am the fresher I am.