I saw a little millipede, a-going for a walk.
He waved and said “Good morning!” so I stopped a while to talk.
In admiration I remarked upon his jaunty stroll,
and marveled at those countless feet all under his control.
“How is it, little millipede,” I asked with great regard,
“that all your feet know where to step? It must be awfully hard!”
Cheerfully he opened up his mouth to make reply,
as gradually his many limbs drew up to rest nearby.
But then his face grew cloudy, and then puzzled, and then glum.
It seemed my simple question had struck him rather dumb.
The time ticked on in awkward silence, till I had to go,
apologizing as I left for having stumped him so.
I really do feel awful now, for causing him to fret—
but if he hasn’t worked it out, you’ll find he’s stuck there yet.