In four quick, singsong lines, the speaker points at a tree and announces that the leaves are exactly where they should be. They may be ugly or pretty, healthy or not, but that doesn’t change the fact. The last line adds a childlike, almost cheeky note: “Papa did not put them there.” It sounds like a small child thinking out loud — noticing that leaves belong to the tree on their own, not because a parent arranged them.
The whole thing has a nursery-rhyme feel: short, bouncy, and pleased with itself. There is no deep worry here, just a calm sense that some things in nature are already in their proper place. The mood is light and playful, with a tiny hint of wonder at how the ordinary world works.