Answer:
My love, when I gaze on thy beautiful face. Careering along, yet always in place, the thought has often come into my mind. If I ever shall see thy glorious behind.
Who eats a lot of iron without getting sick?
What grows in winter, dies in summer, and grows roots upward?
I always run but never walk, I sometimes sing but cannot talk, No head on which a hat to place, You always look me in the face.
What is that you will break everytime you name it?
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?