Classic Poem

The sky is up above the roof
So blue, so soft.
A tree there, up above the roof,
Swayeth aloft.

A bell within that sky we see,
Chimes low and faint;
A bird upon that tree we see,
Maketh complaint.

Dear God, is not the life up there
Simple and sweet?
How peacefully are borne up there
Sounds of the street.

What hast thou done, who comest here,
To weep alway?
Where hast thou laid, who comest here,
Thy youth away?