Silent guardian of words, resting on a shelf, unlocking a world of meanings, from A to Z it dwells. Need a spelling then come. And read thee

I carry papers on my face, And keep them steady in one place. I have a clip that holds them tight, So you can write both day and night. I’m not a desk, I’m small and light; What am I?

What is black when it’s clean and white when it’s dirty?

I close out light or lose my sight, In slats or senses, day or night. I dim the world or fail to find, what others see, I leave behind.

Golden chambers, sweetly filled, where buzzing architects tirelessly build. A waxy palace, hexagonal and neat, a place where liquid gold finds its seat.