What does man love more than life,
Fear more than death or mortal strife.
What the poor have, the rich require,
and what contented men desire.
What the miser spends and the spendthrift saves,
And all men carry to their graves?
I sometimes come in a can but I'm not food.
I sometimes come in a bottle but I'm not a beverage.
I come in different colors but I'm not a rainbow.
I'm sometimes used with canvas but I'm not a tent.
I'm used with a brush but I'm not toothpaste.
What Am I?
For thousands of years,
Seen only in tale.
The wind as a sail,
For one thunderous gale.
Shiny stores rich in lore,
The burning temper, like Earth's core.
What am I?