Answer:
When it comes in, From sea to shore, Twenty paces you'll see, No less, no more.
What is weightless but takes two people to hold it?
Half-way up the hill, I see you at last, lying beneath me with your sounds and sights. A city in the twilight, dim and vast, with smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights.
I scribble forms of the finest letter, And repel elements of the harshest weather. I am an arrow-aimer and a dust-breaker.
My teeth are sharp, my back is straight, to cut things up it is my fate.
Within, I clean all that is bad and is old. I make juice that’s the color of gold. Should I die, a filter machine would you need assembled to replace me and beans I resemble.