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challenging
In times of crisis, I am priceless. I’m illegal, yet permissible. Enemies call me despicable.. But what is my profession? That is the question. Concealed among bureaucrats, who administer resources, diplomats. Researchers and scholars affected, distrust spreads, disconnected. My identity I hide, but with you I confide. Or have I left you eyeless, With my politeness?
easy
By many I'm used to help children sleep. Seen while shooting, an imposter, not me. Though always around you, til dusk you'll see one. Five points I am given, in truth I have none.
challenging
This puzzle is a poem (of sorts) that requires a six-letter word in each line. The six letters never change except in their order: "A ... sat on his ... grey, watching the ... of parting day, and this was his lay: 'Thou ... the weak, Thou ... the strong, to Thee the ... of battles belong.' And the wind with a ... bore off his song."

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