O Grown-Up World, where I live and play,
Shall I really belong in you, world, some day?
The chairs are so tall, it is hard to climb up,
So heavy to hold is a grown person’s cup,
The door-knobs are high, very high, I must stand
On the tips of my toes when I put up my hand.
The grown people sing as they pass in and out
And things seem just right, as they journey about;
They light the high lamps, and they read the big books
And they smile down upon me, with far-away looks.
But soon I’ll be older, and then I’ll be tall,
And I’ll wind the old clock, where it stands in the hall;
I’ll sit down in chairs like my great-aunt Marie
And lift the big pot when it comes with the tea.
Grown-Up World, where I live and play,
Shall I really belong in you, world, some day?
