WHAT AM I RIDDLES

I'm done to boats, to cargo, to loads;

When indoors I'm, in a way, a narrow road.

What am I?

When you stare at me u see a you in reverse. What am I?

I am, in truth, a yellow fork From tables in the sky By inadvertent fingers dropped The awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed And never quite concealed The apparatus of the dark To ignorance revealed.

Part carbon, part water, I am poison to the fishes. Many have falsely claimed my name, for I am the pause that refreshes.

What am I?

My dress is tranquil when I tread the earth, or dwell at home, or drift on the water. Sometimes my wings and this wide sky lift me over the dwellings of men, and then strong clouds carry me over the people. My ornaments echo loudly and melodiously, Illustriously sing when I am not near the earth and stream, a sailing spirit.

What am I?

I am served at a table, In gatherings of two or four. Served small, white and round. You'll love some, And that's part of the fun.

What am I?

I am at the beginning of all things. I am at the end of eternity. There is but one path from my beginning to my end. My whole embodies indifference.

What am I?

A red cap on my head, A stone in my throat, you tell me the answer, I'll give you a Groat.

What am I?

I am not found on any ground,
But always in the air;
Though charged each cloud with thunder loud,
You can not find me there.
Now, if from France you choose to dance
Your way just into Spain,
I there am seen, and near the queen,
In hail, in mist, and rain.

What am I?

I'm done with a hand, one at a time;

A motion to make words, but not to make lines;

I'm known as correct, and as a way, in a way;

And even if you don't take me away, none of me would be left.

What am I?