Answer:
I move without wings, Between silken string, I leave as you find, My substance behind.
Thirty white horses on a red hill, First they champ, Then they stamp, Then they stand still.
Lighter than what I am made of, More of me is hidden Than is seen.
A man calls his dog from the opposite side of the river. The dog crosses the river without getting wet, and without using a bridge or boat. How?
My voice is tender, my waist is slender and I'm often invited to play. Yet wherever I go, I must take my bow or else I have nothing to say.
In your fire you hear me scream! Creaking and whining yet I am dead before you lay me in your hearth.