Riddle 12

On feet I go,
the earth tear,
the green fields,
while a soul I bear.
If my life perish,
fast I bind
the swart strangers ;
sometimes to a better man,
sometimes to beasts,
I give to drink
the stream from my bosom ;
sometimes me the bride treads,
much proud, with her feet ;
sometimes, brought from far,
the strange woman, dusk of hair,
moves and impels me :
the foolish serving maid,
in dark nights,
wets in water ;
sometimes warms
well at the fire,
me in her bosom sticks,
wild-minded in her hand,
turns me abundantly,
glides over me, black.
Say what I am call'd,
I who living
rob the land,
and after death
multitudes serve.