Answer:
Sing me to a baby about to go to sleep.
In all the world none can compare I am a tiny weaver my deadly cloth so silky and fair.
I'm the source of all emotion but I'm caged in a white prison.
I have hands but do not hold, teeth but do not bite. Feet I have but they are cold, eyes I have but without sight. What am I?
Every night I'm told what to do and each morning I do what I'm told. But I still don't escape your scold
I fly to any foreign parts assisted by my spreading wings. My body holds an hundred hearts Nay I will tell you stranger things when I am not in haste I ride and then I mend my pace anon.