A wooden box that sings Comes to life upon strings Rests on a shoulder, don't you know Makes music when it takes a bow An answer for this riddle, Is obvious if you think a little

I leap but have no legs, I glow but have no soul, I die with a single breath.

Sometimes you call this exactly what it is. Either in playing cards or garden clubs, if your heart is in it you'll find your diamonds using this.

I'm black as night, but bring the light. I'm deep in the earth, a hidden might. Men dig for me, for power and heat, but break their backs in this dark retreat. What am I?

I stand in a waiting stack of brown and grain, A quiet stash for warmth through cold and rain. Split and gathered, I rest in a heap, Held for the fire that will wake from sleep. I am not a forest, though I come from the trees, I am not a flame, but I feed it with ease. What am I, so tidy and dry in my role, A collected reserve that can warm the whole