In ancient lore, I shant be trusted. I bring life to lands encrusted. Rivers share a common trait, my nectar peddled to mend your fate. A queen's demise my kiss provides, in this riddle you must surmise.

I'm known to cry, but not for real. My flesh is wild, but have no gills. From my parts, adornments made. In coastal waters you should not wade.

I bring life back to dull and desolate lands. Millions of farmers the world over rely on me, and my various forms to fulfill their plans. In motion, I resemble a chasse. With my absence, you couldn’t click your pen in class.

An earthy delight on a rainy day, a smell may not be here to stay. What am I?

As a noun, I live at sea; but as a verb, you search for me. When something’s strange, just add a Y; you shouldn’t see me in the sky.