Where ancient secrets still are unknown. For birds and eyes look back at the stone. Read me left or read me right, The Rosetta Stone brought me to light.

I’m a giant shady mushroom cap, Where people gather, chat, and clap. I’m not a tree, but block the sun, A roof for music, games, and fun.

A tiny, sweet fruit that gets moldy much too soon. A derisive sound

A vessel of secrets, it holds warmth or chill, often seen in the lab, ready to fulfill. With a narrow neck and a belly wide, it’s a chemist’s trusted guide.

I can be part of your foot, yet I never wear a shoe. I stand above a grand doorway, yet I cannot see the view. I am the chief of villains, but I do no crime myself. I am a sneaky prefix sitting on a grammar shelf. What am I?