Answer:
In the middle of night, I surround the gong. In the middle of sight, I end the song
What is something you can hold without ever touching?
The eight of us go forth not back to protect our king from a foe's attack. What are we?
In spring I look gay, Covered in a green array, The warmer it gets the more clothing I wear, As the cold grows, I throw away my clothes.
A colorful cuisine without flesh
I am the fountain from which no one can drink. For many I am considered a necessary link. Like gold to all I am sought for, but my continued death brings wealth for all to want more.