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The Sloth by Theodore Roethke









The Sloth 
by Theodore Roethke 

In moving-slow he has no Peer.

You ask him something in his Ear,

He thinks about it for a Year;


And, then, before he says a Word

There, upside down (unlike a Bird),

He will assume that you have Heard-


A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.

But should you call his manner Smug,

He'll sigh and give his Branch a Hug;


Then off again to Sleep he goes,

Still swaying gently by his Toes,

And you just know he knows he knows.