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.
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.
Black and Blue. Red and Green. Yellow and Blue. Green and Grey. I am all colours. You can try to get close to me, but you can't escape my vision. If you get greedy, you will try to take your colours for yourself, but before you know it, I will be eating you for lunch. What am I?
Adored by few, Feared and hated by many. Mistress of the entire universal reason, Master in the art of numbers. Some may have solved many of your mysteries, But there still much of them to find. What are they?