Answer:
Halo of water, tongue of wood. Skin of stone, long I've stood. My fingers short reach to the sky. Inside my heart men live and die.
I dig out tiny caves and store gold and silver in them. I also build bridges of silver and make crowns of gold. They are the smallest you could imagine. Sooner or later everybody needs my help. Yet many people are afraid to let me help them.
What is it which builds things up? Lays mountains low? Dries up lakes, and makes things grow? Cares not a whim about your passing? And is like few other things, because it is everlasting?
I have two hands but cannot clap
I march before armies, a thousand salute me. My fall can bring victory, but no one would shoot me. The wind is my lover, one-legged am I. Name me and see me at home in the sky.
People take me on walks and I run and have fun. What am I?