"A useful thing, hard, firm, and white, outside in shaggy robe bedight, Hallowed within right cleverly, it goes to work both white and dry. When after labor it comes back, you'll find it moist and very black, for service it is ready ever, and fails the hand that guides it never. What am I?"
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?