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.
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 leaves,
Quite fit for grown-up labors;
I don't know how the world is made,
And neither do my neighbors.
