Every child's first bouncy platform, And a gateway for active imaginations. This pad that people have relied on for an age, Stuffed with down, hair, straw, cotton, foam, or rubber, The ideal companion for a night's sleep

In the starry night, my glow doth dance, guiding you gently, like an old romance. With a flicker, I usher the dark away, holding steadfast 'til the break of day.

I grow without a root or seed, from dripping water slowed by freeze. I hang like glass from roof or stone, what am I, winter grown?

What’s long and stuff, used by all, but just the tip.

I am a tube that can see, but I have no eyes of my own. I can look above the water while staying below. What am I?