The sixth out of seven, In Leviathan’s den, Forbidden by heaven, In the tenth out of ten. To Goethe, I’m yellow, To Shakespeare, I’m green, I see all that you have, And I want what I’ve seen.

I have two eyes and yet I can't see, I have no lungs and yet I can breathe, Through me you feel one of the five, Through me your memories thrive, You feel me right now as you sigh, Kindly do tell, who am I?

I’m the top of a shaft A bit of shared wisdom Or a little sumthin sumthin you leave for good service

I come at the end, small but discrete, In books or your belly, I’m a supplemental treat. A vestige of old, once thought obsolete, or extra material that makes texts complete.

I have one head, one foot, and for legs. In other contexts, I can be found be a river or in a garden. What am I?