I make the lamp seem half asleep, its little glow is low and deep. Not fully dark, not bright at all, what word am I for this light fall?

I am sometimes liquid, sometimes solid. I am sometimes wet and sometimes dry. I am always clean and never dirty. What am I?

Spelled forward, a clip. Backwards, is what sticks. Swap second and last, done too much makes you sick. Par ‘fore this is rooted, no woods clubs or chips. A chop for the strand, Or for men, the quick-fix.

Mary Poppins may have used a spoonful of sugar, But with today's allergies you need this to lose optic boogers.

I'm a steadfast guardian, though I never stray, My stony silence guards the blooms by day.