I stand with my friends in neat array,
Many people come to play.

We silent are, give no offense,
Yet we're attacked with objects dense.

Right brave we are, as teams of men
Attack our little band of ten.

Though scattered often, far and wide,
We stand again, in silent pride.

What pleasures gain you, sons of Eve,
To give my comrades cause to grieve.

Please, oh humans, have a care,
Though your power can strike, it's kinder to spare.

What are we?

Answer:

Bowling pins