The speaker seems restless and ready to leave the page behind. The opening image is odd and domestic: a shirt of nettles, something prickly and uncomfortable, crushed up to fill an oven roll. It reads like a strange act of turning pain or irritation into food. Then the speaker breaks off and calls to someone, "Come, I don't want to read," choosing the outdoors over books and the world "where animals don't talk."
That last phrase suggests a longing for something plain and unspoken, away from stories and words. The ending turns the view around. Animals no longer change into men, as they do in fables, but they watch "our indoor cages" with rapture. The word "cages" makes human life indoors feel like confinement, while the animals look almost fascinated by it. The mood is playful but wistful, with a quiet sense that we have shut ourselves away from the world we're so eager to read about.