Answer:
I think you live beneath a roof that is upheld by me; I think you seldom walk abroad but my fair form you see; I close you in on every side you very dwelling pave and probably I'll go with you At last into the grave.
In spring, I am gay in handsome array. In summer, more clothing I wear. When colder it grows, I fling off my clothes. In winter, quite naked appear. What am I?
Tear off my skin. I won't cry, but you will. What am I?
I am ten little beans your look at everyday.
I drive men mad for love of me, easily beaten, never free. What am I?
When is it bad luck to see a black cat?