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.
I can sizzle like bacon, I am made with an egg. I have plenty of backbone, but lack a good leg. I peel layers like onions, but still remain whole. I can be long, like a flagpole, yet fit in a hole.
What is lighter than what it is made of?
You seek it out, when your hunger is ripe. It sits on four legs, and smokes a pipe.
What is long and slim, works in light. Has but one eye, and an awful bite?
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?