They all serve 1:
2 4 4 3 4
A riddle by the sun
Knocked before shot.
The silent must go
If a clue’s to be got.
Strong is my spine, so hold me
That I may relate all that’s told me
Through leaves often red,
And though I be dead
I’m yours till you’ve given or sold me.
My seed is desire and poison, my fruit,
And when my desire begins to take root,
It grows like a fire that makes it’s way higher
To burn all in sight of the eye of desire.
A chest without a heart can’t love;
Survives to be heard even as executed
To echo the voice of a soul that is muted.
Old Ebenezer can be quite distressing:
You take off his cloak, his coat and his shirts
And offer a tear to find it depressing
That Eb is more hidden with every undressing.
I hope you don’t mark me forgetful a man
For all of this tardiness is in my plan.
Four score and two thousand eight hundred is what
You must now resolve if you can.
Upon which a runner may rest
To honor so many a guest.
Stands in silence, shoots and leaves.