I'm a most delicious thing. It can be given but cannot be kept. Some awake from it after they've slept. It is the moistest and softest butterfly wing, But when it is the last even it can sting. What am I?
A mile from end to end, yet as close to as a friend. A precious commodity, freely given. Seen on the dead and on the living. Found on the rich, poor, short and tall, but shared among children most of all. What am I?
A hundred years I once did live, and often wholesome food did give, yet all that time I never did roam, so much as a half a mile from my home, my days were spent devoid of strife, until at last I lost my life. And since my death ? I pray give ear, I oft have traveled far and near. What am I?