Beauty, because beauty is in the eye of the bee-holder
I have an eye but am blind, am a sea, but no water; Am a bee, but no honey; Tea but no coffee; and Am a why, but no answer. What am I?
My head and tail both equal are, My middle slender as a bee. Whether I stand on head or heel Is quite the same to you or me. But if my head should be cut off, The matter's true, though passing strange Directly I to nothing change. What am I?
On clear days I search in silence, my cool eye a shade of pale. In billowing thickness, with glaring red eye I screech and wail. My power keeps you from the glow. Ever-ready, you'll know to go. What am I?
