Every dawn begins with me
At dusk I’ll be the first you see
And daybreak couldn’t come without
What midday centers all about
Daises grow from me, I’m told
And when I come, I end all cold
But in the sun I won’t be found
Yet still, each day I’ll be around

One thin, one bold,
One sick, one cold.
The earth we span,
To prey upon man.

Who are we?

This earthen home is not a den.
I’ve seen impressive rows of them.
As lost as any man becomes,
he always finds his way back home.

What’s black when you get it, red when you use it, and white when you’re all through with it?

Comes as wooden as a tree,
Covered in paint, don’t you see,
Makes you laugh, or run and hide,
For it has something dark inside.