We have not wings - we cannot soar-
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees - by more and more -
The cloudy summits of our time.
The mighty pyramids of stone
That wedge - like cleave the desert airs,
When nearer seen and better known,
Are but gigantic flights of stairs.
The distant mountains, that uprear
Their frowning foreheads to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear
As we to higher levels rise.
The heights by great men reached and kept,
Were not attained by sudden flight;
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.

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