Answer:
Grows from the ground, bushes and grass, leaves of yellow, red and brow, unruly plants, get the axe, trim the hedge back down.
Break it and it is better, immediately set and harder to break again
A shimmering field that reaches far. Yet it has no tracks, And is crossed without paths.
In Paris but not in France, the thinnest of its siblings.
A serpent swam in a silver urn, A golden bird did in its mouth abide, The serpent drank the water, this in turn, Killed the serpent. Then the gold bird died.
Within, I clean all that is bad and is old. I make juice thatβs the color of gold. Should I die, a filter machine would you need assembled to replace me and beans I resemble.