I climbed up the karaka tree br Into a nest all made of leaves br But soft as feathers. br I made up a song that went on singing all by itself br And hadn't any words, but got sad at the end. br There were daisies in the grass under the tree. br I said just to try them: br "I'll bite off your heads and give them to my little br children to eat." br But they didn't believe I was a bird; br They stayed quite open. br The sky was like a blue nest with white feathers br And the sun was the mother bird keeping it warm. br That's what my song said: though it hadn't any words. br Little Brother came up the patch, wheeling his barrow. br I made my dress into wings and kept very quiet. br Then when he was quite near I said: "Sweet, sweet!" br For a moment he looked quite startled; br Then he said: "Pooh, you're not a bird; I can see br your legs." br But the daisies didn't really matter, br And Little Brother didn't really matter; br I felt just like a bird.