Answer:
It stands upright and can be quite grand. Its secret is not hidden but right at hand. What is it?
What flies without wings? What passes all things? What mends all sorrow? What brings the morrow?
My thunder comes before the lightning. My lightning comes before the clouds. My rain dries all the land it touches.
Whoever makes it, tells it not. Whoever takes it, knows it not. Whoever knows it, wants it not. What is it?
When there is fire in me then I am still cold. When I own your true love’s face then you will not see me. To all things I give no more than I am given. In time I may have all things, and yet I can keep nothing.
Who makes it, has no need of it. Who buys it, has no use for it. Who uses it, can't see it. What is it?