FROM the grass a Daisy looked, 

And with a glance quite shy, 

"Oh dear Miss Rose," she asked, 

"Do you hold up the sky?" 

"Dear Daisy," said the Rose, 

"I cannot reach so high; 

And very far above me 

Is the blue and lovely sky; 

"But if you wish to know, 

To find out I will try; 

For maybe 'tis the Fir-tree 

That's holding up the sky." 

Then the Rose to the Fir-tree 

Upraised her radiant eye, 

And said with a blush, "Good sir, 

Do you hold up the sky?" 

The Fir-tree shook his head 

And answered with a sigh, 

"Oh no, indeed, sweet Rose, 

It surely is not I." 

And then he asked the Elm, 

Who stood to him quite nigh: 

The Elm her branches waved, 

And said, "It is not I." 

"But a Mountain very tall 

In the distance I espy; 

And on his shoulders rests, 

I think, the wondrous sky." 

And the Elm-tree sent the Wind, 

And the Wind did swiftly hie; 

And said, "Your highness, sir, 

Do you hold up the sky?" 

Returned the Mountain, "Who would 

Into these secrets pry? 

I've stood here many an age, 

But I never touched the sky." 

"Sweet Daisy," sighed the Rose, 

"I fear before we die 

We never shall find out 

Who holdeth up the sky." 

But as she spoke, a bird' 

So far above did fly, 

They thought he surely touched 

That very same blue sky. 

When flew the little bird 

To the Fir-tree by and by, 

They asked, "Oh, tell us, please, 

Who holdeth up the sky?" 

Perched on the swinging bough, 

Then sang the happy bird, 

While Elm and Fir and Mountain 

And Rose and Daisy heard: 

"'Tis He who made the Daisy, 

And He who made the Rose; 

'Tis He who made the Fir-tree, 

The Elm, and all that grows; 

"'Tis He who made the Mountain, 

And made the bird to fly— 

The good and heavenly Father, 

Who holdeth up the sky." 

—Wide Awake.