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I lived first in a little house
And lived there very well;
The world to me was small and round,
And made of pale blue shell.
I lived next in a little nest,
Nor needed any other;
I thought the world was made of straw,
And brooded by my mother.
One day I fluttered from my home
To see what I could find;
I said, "The world is made of leaves,
I have been very blind."
At last I flew beyond the nest
Quite fit for grown-up labors;
I don't know how the world is made,
And neither do my neighbors.
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