At dusk, I come without being fetched. ...
Riddle: At dusk, I come without being fetched. At dawn, I disappear without being stolen. I'm a poet's tears and a sailor's guide. What am I?
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Riddle of the Day
I heard of a wonder, of words moth-eaten. That is a strange thing, I thought, weird. That a man's song be swallowed by a worm. His blinded sentences, his bedside stand-by rustled in the night - and the robber-guest. Not one wit the wiser. For the words he had mumbled.