Riddles

O you encircle all except the air

You are the great, vast organ of the earth

O, you have no bones, but they would be bare

We hide, but partake, sitting on our hearth

The rain you make: it washes us all clean

Yet we hide from you underneath our roofs

Through windows, sometimes, all that we have seen

The pattering, like many horses' hooves

When we go places without you

To take you with us, we put you in chains

We should not only love and respect you

Even before birth, you course through our veins