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 covered by my mother.
One day I fluttered from the nest,
To see what I could find.
I said, “The word is made of leaves;
I have been very blind.”
At last I flew beyond the tree,
And saw the sky so blue;
Now, how the world is really made
I cannot tell – can you?