Bird Thoughts

I lived first in a little house,

And lived there very well;

I thought the world 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 the nest

To see what I could find.

I said, "The world is made of leaves;

I have been very blind."

At length I flew beyond the tree,

Quite fit for grown-up labours.

I don't know how the world is made,

And neither do my neighbours!