Riddles (Page 4)

Colored as a maiden tweaked,
time was naught when I began;
through the garden I was sneaked,
I alone am the fall of man.
What am I?

Early ages the iron boot tread,
with Europe at her command.
Through time power slipped and fled,
'til the creation of new holy land.
Who am I?

One thin, one bold,
one sick, one cold.
The earth we span,
to prey upon man.
Who are we?

One where none should be,
or maybe where two should be,
seeking out purity,
in the kings trees.
What am I?

One tooth to bite,
he's the forests foe.
One tooth to fight,
as all Norse know.
What is it?

This creature, part man and part tree,
hates the termite as much as the flea.
His tracks do not match,
and his limbs may detach,
but he's not a strange creature to see.
What is it?

The part of the bird
that is not in the sky,
which can swim in the ocean
and always stay dry.
What is it?

Dead and bound,
what once was free.
What made no sound,
now sings with glee.
What is it?

The root tops the trunk
on this backward thing,
that grows in the winter
and dies in the spring.
What is it?

Touching one, yet holding two,
it is a one link chain
binding those who keep words true,
'til death rent it in twain.
What is it?

The wise and knowledgeable man is sure of it.
Even the fool knows it.
The rich man wants it.
The greatest of heroes fears it.
Yet the lowliest of cowards would die for it.
What is this upon which I ponder?

I am and yet can not
I am an Idea, yet can rot
I am two but none
I am on land, but on sea.
What am I?

All in white
Fossil, fresh snow, a loan, the sky,
Just what am I?

I am a wonderful help to women,
The hope of something to come. I harm
No citizen except my slayer.
Rooted I stand on a high bed.
I am shaggy below. Sometimes the beautiful
Peasant's daughter, an eager-armed,
Proud woman grabs my body,
Rushes my red skin, holds me hard,
Claims my head. The curly-haired
Woman who catches me fast will feel
Our meeting. Her eye will be wet.

What is greater than God,
Worse than the Devil,
The Poor have it,
The Rich need it,
Dead man eat it,
If you eat it you'll die.

Power and treasure for a prince to hold,
Hard and steep-cheeked, wrapped in red
Gold and garnet, ripped from a plain
Of bright flowers, wrought - a remnant
Of fire and file, bound in stark beauty
With delicate wire, my grip makes
Warriors weep, my sting threatens
The hand that grasps gold. Studded
With a ring, I ravage heir and heirloom.
To my lord and foes always lovely
And deadly, altering face and form.

As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives;
Every wife had seven sacks,
Every sack had seven cats,
Every cat had seven kits:
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were there going to St. Ives?

Dawns away,
The day's turned grey,
And I must travel far away.
But I'll be back,
And then we'll track,
The light of yet another day.

Deep, dark, underground,
That is the place where I'll be found.
Yet brought into the light of day,
I sprinkle sunlight every-which-a-way.
Though dulled with oil I will be found,
I am remarkably well and throughly sound.
Cut me quick and it will be seen,
That I instantly have a marvelous sheen.

Long legs, crooked thighs,
Little head, and no eyes.