I am a structure in parks, gardens, or town squares where water rises into the air and then falls back down in a graceful flow. People often toss coins into me and make wishes. I decorate public spaces and can cool the air on hot days. What am I?

I hold your books, I hold your elf. When I am made of flat rock, you call me continental.

I have a neck, but no head to wear, and sing through strings stretched taut with care.

Golden grains in endless dance, shifting with the wind's soft trance. Castles rise then swiftly fall, yet always present, a desert's sprawl.

In times past I needed to be developed. In modern day I can simply be printed.