No room had it lacked.
Though snug it was packed,
There it was, all complete,
From its head to its feet.
The softest of down and the brightest of eyes,
And so big—why, the shell wasn’t half its size.
Tom gave a long whistle, “Mamma, now I see
That an egg is a chicken—though the how beats me,
An egg isn’t a chicken, that I know and declare;
Yet an egg isn’t a chicken—see the proof of it there.