Answer:
When it is alive we sing, when it is dead we clap our hands. What is it?
They can be harbored, but few hold water. You can nurse them, but only by holding them against someone else. You can carry them, but not with your arms. You can bury them, but not in the earth.
Glittering points that downward thrust. Sparkling spears that never rust.
My first is an insect; my second is a border; my whole puts the face in a tuneful disorder.
I am nothing but holes tied to holes, yet am strong as iron.
What never gets any wetter no matter how hard it rains?