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.