How surely treads the mountain goat
above his waiting death!
He nimbly jumps from jag to spur
without a catch of breath.
Aside to drink at fountain deep
he stops and turns away.
Then pausing near a crag to leap,
he calmly slips into—
But wait! Not slipping he who knows
the place of every stone.
He only places wary feet
on paths to him well known.
Most agile steps may be too rude
to follow where he leads,
For human feet are very crude,
though we may think them deft.