Answer:
Of no use to one, Bliss to two. Men lie for it. The baby’s right,
What get wet while drying
There are millions of me. I am very small but when moving fast I am deadly.
Whiling away the hours of flowers, Walking through fields of gold. Preening and pruning in lights fading hours, For petals to freeze in the cold. What is it?
What can be swallowed, but can swallow you?
The sun bakes them, The hand breaks them, The foot treads on them, And the mouth tastes them. What are they?