Christopher Robin’s friend A drunken WW II political leader Spelled differently, the sound a horse makes

I'm words sung, not spoken aloud, and I echo on pews, far and loud. Last letter silent, four in all; I'm about a deity, my adoration sworn. I rise in reverence, and end with deference; what sound am I thus told?

Salad days are here, I feel it in my heart. Life is green, Crisp and clean, It's tearing me apart

Ikea says this may be required, but I feel it should be patience Or Children love this mini break in the day to avoid classwork

In metal and hinges, I stay, Guarding secrets by night and by day. I keep things confined, With twist of a kind, When key or combo decides to play.