Answer:
In the forest, this blends in just right, but every December it is covered with lights. What is it?
Something wholly unreal, yet seems real to I. Think my friend, tell me where does it lie?
A hill full, a hole full; yet you cannot catch a bowl full. What is it?
My tongue hangs out as I run over fields and streets all day. I get tied up every morning and untied at night.
What can stand in place of a country but still fold away in a drawer?
Before I grow I'm small. When I'm old I grow tall. When I die I give a mighty fall.