Answer:
It can pierce the best armor and make swords crumble with a rub, yet for all its power It can't harm a wooden club.
What holds names and memories which are not its own?
The moon is my father. The sea is my mother. I have a million brothers. I die when I reach land
Round as an apple, deep as a cup, and all the kings' horses can't fill it up. What is it?
We are five little objects of an everyday sort, You will find us all in a tennis court.
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